If one boy is doing it, the other will surely copy soon. Noah says, "Ow!" Zeke says, "Ow!!" Noah starts digging in the dirt; Zeke digs in the dirt. Noah sings "hi-ho-hi-ho, it's off to work we go" over and over (because it's the only part of the song he knows) and Zeke tries his best to imitate in his sweet singing voice.
It goes the other way, too, you know. If Zeke decides to forgo his spoon and reaches into his bowl to pull his cereal out of the milk with his hands, Noah will dig his hand into his bowl. Zeke will take off his shoes in the car; Noah will take off his shoes in the car. Zeke will pour water out of the bathtub; Noah will pour water out of the bathtub (after he has done a quick "parent-check" to see who's paying attention).
They are copycats, and typically their antics keep me laughing.
As Zeke tries to do more and more things that Noah does, he has begun to learn a thing about limitations. When he wants to break an egg, I tell him he needs to wait until he's a little older. When he wants some "screen time," we tell him that he can when he's three. When he sees Noah jumping off a high ledge at a playground, something intrinsically tells him that he needs to slither down on his belly until he's a little bigger.
As parents, we see very clearly how some kids are ready for certain things while others are not.
Perhaps God has such a view of us.
As I compare myself to friends, family and acquaintances, I often assume that I could or should be doing what they are doing. Sometimes I feel guilty that I'm not doing the kinds of things they are doing, or like I should be doing more to match their level of commitment to family, church, or work.
How often do I forget to gaze up at my Father in those moments, asking with wide eyes, "Can I do what she's doing?" I wonder how often he would retort with, "Not yet. You need to wait until you're a little older."
Oh, that I would learn to be a copycat of his timing.