Jackson has a lot of Jack’s strengths, and I’d be lying if I said I was unhappy about that. If I had a little version of me wandering around the house all day embodying all my faults, well, one of us would have to go.
One of the ways Jackson’s most like Jack is that he’s bloody persistent. I guess all kids are, but Jesus! He sounds just like Jack when we were dating, they might as well be the same person.
Jack: It’s me. What are you doing?
Me: Well, I have this project for work I need to finish . . .
Jack: Let’s go get ice cream. Let’s go to the toy store and ride in the Batmobile.
Me: I can’t, I have to finish this thing.
Jack: Come on. Come out for an hour.
Me: I really can’t.
Jack: Come on. Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on!
Jack: Okay, I’ll come pick you up in ten minutes.
The only difference is that at this point Jackson would break down crying, but Jack would just wait me out until happy hour.
The older Jackson gets the more he ceases to take my refusals personally. His skin is thickening, he’s just a happy little bulldozer who bides his time until either (1) I’m too weary to refuse or (2) he can think of some way to make me laugh so I’ll give in to what he wants because I love him so goddamn much.