Navigating the copying stage: The hilarious and heart-stopping moments of raising two boys
In her column, Tracy shares experiences and lessons learnt as she navigates life and grows with her two boys. To share your views email Tracy on [email protected] In her column, Tracy shares experiences and lessons learnt as she navigates life and grows with her two boys. To share your views email Tracy on [email protected]
Image: File
These two make my heart so happy
Image: Dad
There’s a new phase happening in my house right now, and no one really prepares you for it.
My two-year-old has officially entered what I can only describe as the copying stage.
And wow… what a strange, hilarious, heart-stopping, patience-testing phase this is.
It crept up on us quietly. One day he was just doing his own adorable toddler thing, and the next he was watching his older brother like a hawk. Studying him. Absorbing him. Repeating him. Not just the fun stuff, but everything.
The words. The tone. The attitude. Even the tantrums.
Let’s just be honest here, because I feel like sometimes parents sugarcoat things: my kids throw tantrums. Real ones. Loud ones. Dramatic, fall-to-the-floor, the world is ending because I got the wrong cup, kind of tantrums. And now? I have a tiny copy-and-paste version of that energy walking around behind his big brother.
And sometimes… it’s funny. I mean, really funny. The kind of funny you have to hide behind your hand so they don’t see you laughing.
Other times, my heart nearly stops.
Because suddenly I’m watching a two-year-old attempt something his older brother can do with ease climbing, jumping, balancing and I have to stay calm. Not overreact. Not panic. Just hover in that silent, internal scream of “please don’t fall, please don’t fall, please don’t fall.”
They say “boys will be boys,” and right now, I am living that reality in surround sound.
But back to the copying.
Big brother is living for this stage… most of the time. There’s something about watching your little sibling try to be you that is endlessly entertaining. He laughs when the baby stumbles. The baby laughs because he’s laughing. And just like that, they’re off again, running, jumping, plotting their next bit of mischief like a tiny, chaotic team.
It’s actually beautiful to watch. That bond forming in real time.
But then… there are the other moments. The ones where it all becomes just a bit too much.
“Moooommy, this is so annoying. Why can’t he just do his own thing?”
And there it is. The shift.
Because suddenly, it’s not cute anymore. It’s not funny anymore. It’s frustrating. For him. For me. For everyone. And this is where I found myself completely out of my depth.
Until, of all things… Peppa Pig stepped in to save the day.
Yes. Peppa Pig.
There’s an episode where George copies Peppa, relentlessly. Sound familiar? And Peppa gets annoyed (also familiar). But then Mummy Pig steps in and explains something so simple, yet so powerful: George copies Peppa because he looks up to her. Because he wants to be like her.
That was my lightbulb moment.
So the next time my eldest rolled his eyes and groaned about his little brother copying him, I tried it. I told him, “He’s copying you because he thinks you’re amazing.”
And just like that… the energy shifted.
Not completely, let’s not get carried away, we’re still raising real children here... but enough.
Enough for a pause. Enough for a small smile. Enough for a little more patience.
This stage is messy. It’s loud. It’s unpredictable. It’s filled with moments that make you laugh and moments that make you want to hide in the bathroom for five minutes of peace.
But it’s also something else. It’s admiration in its purest form.
It’s a little human saying, without words, “I want to be like you.”
And I guess my job right now isn’t to stop the copying.
It’s to guide it. To survive it. To gently remind one child why he’s being copied… and remind myself that this chaos is actually connection in disguise.
Even if it comes with double the tantrums.