People tell us all the time, “Oh, Natalie looks just like her daddy” or “Man, I can really see her mommy in her.” Oddly, we don’t see either. Natalie looks like … well, Natalie to us. Sometimes I see my lips or Jason’s ears, but mostly she looks like her own little person with no real resemblance to either of us.
But boy, do we see personality traits of ours in her all the time. This morning, as I was dressing her wriggling body I saw myself – 100 percent. She didn’t want to be getting dressed, or at least not the way I was doing it. She whined and squirmed, shoved her arms in the shirt and hollered when they didn’t pop out the arm holes. She pushed harder with her little hands trying to shove them straight through the belly of her shirt. No way was I going to convince her otherwise. And all this with glaring eyes and a look that says, “I can do it myself.”
Yep, she’s got my temper and independence streak.
“Natalie, I wish you would have inherited daddy’s patience,” I cooed at her while coaxing her to let me help. Finally, finally, we got those arms through and tucked her shirt into her little orange skirt. She wriggled out of my arms again and marched right out of her room. My little girl.
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