Like Mother Like Daughter? Not Really…

Sometimes I wonder where my kids came from (sorry for the poor grammar). I know WHERE they came from but you know what I mean…

And then there are those times that I see myself so clearly in one of my girls that I have to laugh.

And remember that my mother always wished for this to happen, for me to have one just like myself. Somedays, I have two.

Touche, mother. Touche.

My youngest daughter surprises me often with her ideas and outlook on things. Yesterday she called a family meeting. I didn’t know if she was divorcing us or asking for a raise in her allowance. Turns out she just wanted to schedule our bathroom visits.

Yup… schedule our bathroom breaks. She whipped out this little ditty that she borrowed from school:

I was dumbfounded. Schedule our bowel movements? What, do we need to pencil in our pees?

What in the world would make her think that this is something we need to do. I tried to follow her train of thought, the mind of an 8 year old. We ARE living in a rental house with only one bathroom and this is not something we’re used to (I know, get over it). But as I questioned her a little further, it turns out that it has little to do with only having one bathroom and everything to do with her wanting to get us a little more scheduled.


She’s NOT my daughter, I’m convinced. Her father, however, would probably whip up a spreadsheet if it meant keeping things more organized. Needless to say, we are NOT using the sheet to sign up to GO.

So today I’ll try to be thankful that she has inherited some of her father’s organizational skills.

Tomorrow morning I’ll know she’s all mine when she slowly drags herself out of bed and no one can talk to her for an hour.

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