My nieces – ages four and six – will occasionally call me Grandpa and my dad Uncle.
It’s not a big deal and sometimes we correct them – though we usually just let it go.
It seemed odd to me that they would make the mistake, until I got my haircut today.
Since my bald spot became a thing and the rest of my hair started to thin out, I usually have what’s left of my hair cut almost to the scalp. Throw in randomly changing white facial hair and an odd sense of humor – and, well, I guess I can see how that would be confusing.
Dad is stronger than I am and more of any outdoorsy person. He’s into history and I’m into Sci-fi. I’m weirder than he is – but not by much. I’m computers, and barefoot, and crafts. He’s sports and yardwork. He’s a runner and I’m a swimmer. We both really appreciate a good hat.
But, to a little kid those distinctions are pretty subtle. My dad is a pretty good guy and while I might have bristled at the suggestion that we’re a lot alike a few years ago, I think I have a better appreciation for him. There’s still a lot we don’t agree on – but I’m okay with my nieces occasionally mixing us up.