Three-and-a-half-year-olds are fascinating little creatures because they move through life with a level of confidence that most adults can only dream of.
Meanwhile, I’ll spend twenty minutes rereading a work email because I accidentally used a period where maybe an exclamation mark should’ve gone, and now I’m worried I sound angry.
My son doesn’t have these concerns.
He wakes up every morning with the confidence of a man who owns several businesses and has never failed at anything in his life.
He walks into rooms like he pays the mortgage.
He sees complete strangers and immediately decides that they’re friends now. No introductions or uncomfortable small talk. No wondering if he’s being weird! No, no. Instead, this boy will just walk over and start existing near them until friendship somehow magically happens.
Honestly, there’s something impressive about it.
He’s also staring me down on a daily basis. Not regular eye contact either. Full commitment.
I’ll say something like, “Buddy, we need to put our shoes on.” Then he slowly turns, locks eyes with me, and says, “No.” Not loudly. Not emotionally. Calmly. Confidently. Like a tiny union representative informing me that my request has been reviewed and denied.
And the frustrating thing is… it works. Not because I give in. Mostly. But because there’s a level of certainty there that I can’t even understand.
Then there’s potty training.
Now, for the record, it’s absolutely frustrating. We’ve read books, tried encouragement, celebrated victories, and offered rewards. And none of that changes the fact that this little guy has looked at the entire process and basically decided, No thanks.
Not out of fear.
Not embarrassment.
Not concern.
Just confidence.
At no point has he sat down and wondered, What if people judge me?
Meanwhile, I can still remember conversations I had ten years ago and randomly think, Why did I say that?
Kids don’t do that.
They run. They dance. They wave at strangers. They wear weird things. They laugh too loud. They fall down and get back up like nothing happened.
Adults slowly become very concerned with looking foolish. We second-guess everything.
Should I send that message?
Did I say something weird?
Am I standing normally right now?
And every once in a while, I think back to our cruise.
If you’ve read one of my previous posts, you might remember the moment. We were walking back to the ship after visiting Sint Maarten, passing one of the ramps, when suddenly I heard crying.
Real, devastated, world-ending crying.
I turned around, and there he was, completely crushed before throwing his hands up and wailing:
“Oh nooooo! My ship!”
Not the ship.
His ship.
Because somewhere in his three-and-a-half-year-old mind, that enormous cruise ship apparently belonged to him.
And honestly? There’s a strange kind of confidence in that, too.
Maybe confidence isn’t believing you’re always right.
Maybe it’s just moving through life with the certainty of a three-and-a-half-year-old who never questions whether he belongs there.
Even when he absolutely refuses to use the potty.
The CJBuzz 