>The Copycat Kid

11-month-old Bruiser has far fewer friends than his sister did at his age. With her, I was an eager new mom, desperate to “socialize” her even before she could talk. I plunked her down in her first playgroup when she was only four months old, propping her up from behind since she couldn’t sit up on her own. She spent the next year and a half pretty much ignoring her “friends,” unless they were stealing her toys or clawing at her face. My mom friends and I laugh about it now, because although we kept plugging away and putting our babies together, the kids didn’t notice each other until they turned two, and even then learning to play with another child was a very gradual process. Suffice it to say that I’m not quite so worried about getting Bruiser “socialized.”

He does have a few baby friends, though, and one lives only a few minutes away. But this friend is different from any of the ones 3-year-old Punky had at her brother’s age. Basically, you could call him The Copycat Kid.

Take a look in The Copycat Kid’s toybox and you’ll find hat it’s nearly identical to Bruiser’s. When we get our boys together, there’s always a decent chance they’ll be dressed in the exact same outfits. It’s not The Copycat Kid’s fault, obviously.

It’s his mother’s.

It began very innocently. She’d come over to my house and ooh and aah over Bruiser’s toys, which are not, by the way, all that spectacular. Most of them belonged to Punky first, and another child before that (I’m a big fan of consignment baby toys- especially the larger items).

The next thing I knew, Bruiser’s little friend would have all the toys she’d exclaimed over. It was no big deal at first. Bruiser’s playtable was pretty awesome, though she had to have really searched for it, since it was made at least seven years ago. His “My First Puppy” doll was kind of cute, I guess, and he was really enjoying Punky’s Weeble Wobble Treehouse. If she’d managed to find all those things, more power to her. But then the phone calls began.

“Did you say you got Bruiser’s Mr. Mischief t-shirt at Target?” she’d ask after ostensibly calling to see if my head cold was any better.

“Uh yeah,” I’d say, suddenly wary. “Target is where we got it, actually.”

“And what about the Boy in Black t-shirt he had on at the playground last week?”

“Um, well that was a gift,” I said. “I don’t know where it came from.” Half of my statement was a total lie, but what was this? The Baby Inquisition?

“It looks boutique,” my friend said. “Was it from an out-of-town friend?”

“Yes,” I said. “A very out-of-town friend.”

“Hmm,” she said, thinking. I could hear her writing something.

“Look, Marilyn, I’m not feeling very well,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll let you go,” she said. “But lets get the boys together next week!”

“Sure,” I said weakly.

The next week, The Copycat Kid was wearing a Mr. Mischief t-shirt, along with the same pair of Pediped shoes the company had sent me for Bruiser a year ago. It was just… well… weird. I like Marilyn and I’m not going to end our friendship over this, but this is the kind of thing that might eventually turn two new baby friends into, well, Twinemies. Marilyn, you see, not only buys everything Bruiser has, but if she can find it, she upgrades.

That means little Jess has the Mr. Mischief shirt, the Mr. Mischief socks, and the Mr. Mischief cap. He has the Weeble Wobble Treehouse and the extra accessories package to go with it. He has the Pedipeds in three different colors. Bruiser is totally oblivious to all of this now, but it has occured to me that when he’s three or four, it could be problematic for him to go to a friends house who has everything he has, but better.

I’ve been nice. I’ve been helpful in telling her where to find things, for the most part. I’m not quite sure how to handle this situation. And now, it’s gotten worse. Bruiser’s birthday is in a month, and his friend’s birthday is two weeks before that. Marilyn has been nosing around, trying to figure out what we’ll be doing for his party. Help!

This post originally appeared in Parents.com.