I’ve always been a bit miffed that our only child is so her father. From the moment she popped out, her lips, her tall, slim body, everything is him. Put a baby pic of them both together, they are the same baby. There is nothing, NOTHING of me in her.
I hoped that maybe she’d be left handed like me. No. She’s not, no matter how hard I cane her hand as she practices her letters.
Then she walked me through this drawing she did at preschool:
“So that’s Maddie, and Evie, and Evie’s Mummy, and Evie’s Daddy with a MASSIVE PENIS! BAHAHAHAHAHAH!”
Oh dear, maybe there’s a bit of me in her after all….