She’s turning into me. With a vengeance. With a double portion. At an earlier age. I’m scared. For me.
Scene 1 – yesterday, leaving for Bible study. I’m wearing jeans, a long sweater, and ballet flats with no socks. Little Miss looks at me and says, “Just so you know, Mom, your feet are going to be cold.” She cocks her head and looks at me with a half smirk waiting for it to hit me, expectantly awaiting her brilliance to strike me. I pause….sooo…familiar. And it hits me. “Did you…you didn’t…you did!” She gives a satisfactory laugh and climbs in the car. Smug.
Scene 2- Five days prior to the scene above. We’re heading to church Saturday evening. She’s wearing jeans and a sweater and open toe sandals. I tried and failed to convince her to change into warmer shoes. She insisted that Daddy said the shoes were fine (he did). Giving up, I said, “Fine, but just so you know, your feet are going to be cold.” And we climbed in the car and went to church.
I’m scared. Very scared. She’s too much like me and has learned to use it against me. I’m in trouble. My mom is laughing.