Genetics

It has been a week of craziness around here. We've had some random things that only happen for a week, all happen in the same week. VBS, swimming lessons and T-ball (which we are sick of - I think Zak only wants to go for the slushiest afterwards). And seriously - why would I pick the 5:30 swimming lesson? That's dinner time.

So since we've all been on overdrive this week, sleep has been less than usual - for all of us. Which leads me to Paige. She's 3 now. I don't have a whole lot of specific memories about my childhood. Its horrible. I wish I could remember everything. But the few I remember, I remember well. And I can remember going into my room when I was mad and slamming my door with all my might. I remember it felt really good. Now as an adult, I will be honest and admit that sometimes I do it - I slam the door. Although now, I have the unfortunate realization that I need to be channeling my anger into something a little less childish. I'll let you know when I've found it. ANYWAY - Paige - she is me. I look at her and know that she has gotten the "anger" gene. I wish so desperately I had a video of her stomping to her room donning only her high heels, pink panties, and flower shirt, and slamming her door with all her might. I was laughing to myself outloud. Then I got scared. Very. Scared.