The Sincerest Form of Flattery

Last Monday, we had dinner at my grandparents' house, a.k.a. The House of Sugar. (Seriously. One time, I went to pick up the girls there after work and they were eating mini marshmallows dipped in sugar sprinkles. I've come to accept this as a small price to pay for free babysitting and the fun the girls have over there.)

After dinner, the girls each had a small ice cream cone, and then Keira wanted a Drumstick, too. I told her she'd had enough dessert. Two minutes later, when Grandma left the house to get something from the back yard, Keira took off after her. Is there any doubt as to what she was up to? Not in my mind!

I called her back into the house and told her, "You may not go out there and ask Grandma for a Drumstick when Mommy just told you no."

All wide-eyed innocence, Kiwi said, "I'm not! I'm just going to tell her I love her."

Riiiiiiight. I went ahead and let her out, and waited. When my grandma came back into the house, I asked her, "Did Keira just come out there and ask you to sneak her a Drumstick?"

"Of course she did! And I told her Mommy already said no."

Do I know my kid, or do I know my kid?

So, it was time for the old Time-Out Followed By a Lecture routine. "It is not okay to lie and be sneaky," I blathered in my best teachery tone. "When you lie, blah blah blah trust blah blah might not believe you blah blah lucky you got one dessert blah blah blah sneaking more treats blah blah next time you need to blah blah blah. Do you understand? Okay. You can go play now."

After I sent away my little Pinocchio, my sister looked at me with wide eyes. "Do you have any idea how much you just sounded like Mom?! I felt like I was a little kid again. That's the exact same speech she gave me a million times, right down to the, 'You can go play now.' I feel like I should go to my room!"

"I know," I told her. "I could feel it as the words were coming out of my mouth!"

And hey--at 31 years old, it's probably high time I started the inevitable transformation into my mom. Fortunately for me, that's not really a bad thing--I adore my mom--although it is pretty creepy. What's WAY creepy, though, is to watch it happen to my 4-year-old, who is already turning into me!

The other day, she told Ellie, "C'mon, I'm not really in the mood to be silly right now. Just hold still." (I say this every single day when I brush Keira's teeth and put sunblock on her, both of which somehow morph her into this bizarre hyper-ticklish giggly weirdo.)

And this morning, I overheard her say, "You don't need to freak out, Ells. Just relax. It's not a big deal." (Again, words I have to say to Keira every time she has a meltdown because she's misplaced her Bag of Assorted Highly Important Items...again.)

And another step down the line, Ellie is quickly on her way to becoming a clone of her big sister in many ways. I took this photo of them at Disney's California Adventure the other night with my cheapo cell phone camera--notice that Ellie now does the same pose Keira's been sporting every time a camera aims her way!


Hats? Check. Glasses? Check. Shoulders off-center? Check. Halfhearted smiles? Check.


So much for all of us being unique and special snowflakes!