Reasons I am Turning Into My Parents

1. I hum tunelessly while driving my kids around.

This is a Shirley thing. Her humming is the soundtrack to my teen years. Also, she did lots of happy finger-snapping, which I also do now. It’s strange how these things happen.

2. I’m overprotective about any dark chocolate in the house.

Could I be any more like my dad? He hides his See’s chocolates in his office. I hide them in the laundry room. I spend a fair amount of energy hiding and re-hiding the dark chocolate blueberry Acai gems that Jack thinks he can lick and spit out all over the house. Think again, buddy.

3. I like to sit by the fire and let it drag me into a heat-induced nap coma.

My parents have a Corner of Death in their family room which sucks them into pleasant oblivion. I have an armchair by the fireplace. Sadly, this makes me sound like an old man. I constantly shoo children out of my chair. I read there. I write there. I pass out there whenever possible.

4. I believe a Coke and a couple of ibuprofen can solve most ills.

My parents hand out Motrin like it’s candy. They usually have one or two in their pocket, just in case anyone needs pain relief. “Better living through chemistry,” is my dad’s motto and that’s no lie. As for me and my house, we like our Western medicine.

Regarding soda, my parents have long been known to leave church during Sunday school to go home and “have a pop.” I’m not one to judge. I keep asking Dutch when it will become socially acceptable for me to bring a 32 oz Cherry Coke to sacrament meeting. Because, alas, the apple doesn’t fall from the soda drinkers.

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