From the day she was born, I knew this baby girl would be trouble.
She has my eyes, but they’re a completely different color. They change color depending on the level of mischief she’s stirring up in that devious brain of her’s. Just like mine.
From her earliest days and the moments of her sitting in her highchair throwing food to the dog giggling like crazy to her preschool days getting crayons stuck up her nose, I knew, I just knew I was in trouble.
When my phrases began coming out of her mouth, with the exact same intonation, I chuckled, then worried. Those fateful words rang in my head. The standard curse that follows from generation to generation, “I hope you have a daughter just like you.”
I have pictures of her conjuring up silly thoughts on her own, then convincing her younger sister to run around in their diapers when they were toddlers. She has always been the ring leader. With a freshly polished halo.
But I know the tricks. I wrote that book.
Now that she’s a teen, she is a handful. She is so identical to me, but with far more confidence than I had at her age (and far greater athletic skill). Some of her moments of being “slick” I let slide. Other times, I listen to the conversations she has with her friends as I drive them around and gather all sorts of information that I’ll ask her about later.
It’s almost like being part of the clique, but having a better view.
Some days we butt heads like crazy mountain goats. Both as stubborn as they come. The worst moments are hearing my own words coming out of her mouth when we’re angry. She hasn’t learned how to censor herself yet. Tactic is a skill I’m trying to teach. We both have some mental bruises from the arguments we’ve had. But we’ve always promised one another to talk it out afterwards. We’re good at that.
The best days are when my Mini-Me and I are partners in crime. This evening was one of those times. We share looks across the room and just know what the other is thinking. We’ll crack jokes and laugh. These are the moments I most treasure.
In few years she’ll be heading out. I’m going to miss her cute little face and too-sassy-to-be-good-for-herself attitude. But for now, I’ll take the good, the bad and the ugly. Thankful for every moment.