Children are a reflection of ourselves

Someone recently told me that my daughter was just like me.

I thought over this for about 12 seconds before dismissing the notion as altogether ridiculous.

Still struggling to contain the giggles.

   Yes, she has my sharp sarcastic sense of humor. Yes, she does resemble me in many ways (poor kid). Yes, we share the same gene pool. But that is where the likeness comes to a screeching halt.

   For one, my daughter is tall and slender. Something I definitely am not. I am exactly the same height as my mother and my grandmother. Maybe a bit taller than my great-grandmother. In other words, short. She takes after her daddy's side of the family. Like all of them, she has long legs that reach all the way down to the ground. I wear shoes so that folks won't notice that mine do not. Unfortunately this means I am not getting any hand-me-downs. Nor will I be able to "borrow" from her closet. Heck, I can't even swipe a pair of her cute shoes to run some errands.

   And they would look so good on me...don't you think?


   There is also that whole music thing.

   She can read music. She plays multiple instruments (and quite well I might brag). I am lucky if I can play the radio.

   Speaking of radio....
I like my music LOUD.

The kid thinks I should turn it down AND stop singing all the songs.

At the top of my lungs.

Especially if I don't know the lyrics.

   She has also informed me that classical music doesn't have lyrics. You've gotta be kidding me, right?

   Might as well tell me that the answer for 6-2+(3x2) isn't the Easter Bunny.

Yes, she did tell me that is not the answer.

I took a peek at her homework.

My taxes looked easier.

   As if all this wasn't bad enough, she feels like my behavior is a little immature. So what if I like to pretend I am a fighter pilot while driving the expressway? Who cares if I get out of the car to dance in the parking lot when my favorite tune is playing? And what if I rolled my eyes last week while talking to the doctor's office? They couldn't see me, I was on the phone!

   In conclusion, I have decided that the person who told me my daughter is just like me, is right, if they were referring to a more mature, taller, smarter, and musically talented version of myself that I have yet to grow into.

   In an effort to try and close the gap between our differences, I decided to give my daughter pets.

I got my daughter a chicken.

Named it Peck-Peck.

And a horse.

Named it Nag-Nag.

Nag-Nag pictured to the right, Peck-Peck center.
Lucky kid!