I’m over here, sitting on the park bench, minding my own business. Truth be told, I’m probably doing my best to blend completely into the background. Meanwhile, she’s out there chasing around a group of kids several years older than she is. “Hi, I’m Addie,” she’ll say. “What’s your name?” she’ll ask. It’s a curious experience raising an extrovert child when you’re more of an introvert yourself.

Wanna Play With Me?

She’s very quick to make friends, eager to interact and engage. She’s been really outgoing. Maybe it’s because she’s an only child. At this point in her life, though, she’s failing to recognize the unfortunate reality that not everyone wants to be her friend. Those older kids at the playground? They just want to do their own thing, and they’ve been actively avoiding her for several minutes. Addie continues to follow. Eventually, one of the older kids says, “We don’t want to play with you, okay?”

Mean? Maybe. But Addie is unfazed. She just latches onto another kid (or another group of kids), effervescent energy ever bubbling out of her little extrovert child body. She is literally bouncing.

Me? I cringe a little. I’ve gotten a lot better at overcoming my helicopter parent tendencies. In the past, I’d hover around to protect her from physical harm. Now, I see opportunities like this where I may have protected her from emotional harm, but I choose to stand back. She has to figure this stuff out on her own.

The Extrovert Child Is Born

When she was just a baby, she mostly kept to herself. That’s to be expected from a psychological development perspective. We’d go to the playground when she was a toddler, and she might engage in some parallel play. Then, one day, it’s like someone flipped a switch. Suddenly, she wanted to play and interact with everyone, child and adult alike. And the switch has remained flipped ever since.

Myself, my personality type is such that I tend to keep to myself. I’m a self-described introvert, never the one to initiate a conversation with a stranger. This might come as a bit of a surprise — given my penchant for blogging, vlogging and social media — but those are still interactions via a device, not face-to-face.

Media and networking events terrify me. I typically try to latch onto someone I know, almost like a security blanket. Five Dads Go Wild pushed me well outside my comfort zone.

But, I’ve got to wonder if this outward introversion (if that makes sense) is central to who I am or if it is a learned behavior. Growing up, my parents emphasized the virtue of modesty. Don’t draw attention to yourself, don’t trouble other people, and don’t get in the way. Maybe that’s why I have such a tough time asking for help. I don’t want to be a bother. I don’t want to be seen as somehow “lesser than” or “inadequate.”

I can’t help but to think this is a product of the “model minority” experience. Just put your head down, do your work quietly, and allow yourself to go unnoticed. Don’t bother other people. Just do your thing and they’ll do theirs.

Round and Round It Goes

Back at the playground, a group of children have gathered on the merry-go-round. (I think it’s technically called a roundabout as far as playground equipment goes, but I digress.) Unfortunately, none of the children have volunteered to actually spin the thing. Addie runs over to the nearest adult and asks, “Can you help us spin very, very fast?” I cringe again.

We’ve encouraged her to be friendly, exercising common courtesy with everyone she meets. At the same time, we worry about “stranger danger” and the protective papa bear instinct kicks in. I also don’t want her to bother the other moms and dads at the park.

She’s the extrovert child, keen to interact with anyone and everyone. I’m the introvert parent, overcome with crippling anxiety with every interaction… even those that don’t involve me directly. Maybe we can learn from one another. She can learn to respect boundaries and limits a little better. And perhaps I can learn to get out of my shell a little more.