Iterative

I am raising my mother.

I've tried to stop it, but life, as Dr. Malcolm once said, will find a way.

It started when I noticed her from behind.  Her hair is sandy and very curly, and is in the same shape as my mother's hair.  For all intents and purposes, it is my mother's hair.  But my wife's hair is also curly, so I could get over this.

My mother has some OCD tendencies towards cleanliness, but not necessarily neatness (that's my father).  Addy has been showing signs of both...  She pretends to clean the bath tub.  Where she gets this from, I don't know.  I don't think I've ever cleaned a bath tub with her around.  She likes to clean the floor, to clean the table, to clean the sink (which she claims is covered in cat poo because it is brown, but the sink is just cat-poo-brown).  She also likes to pile things up (which, if you know my mother, is a bad sign) and straighten things in rows and by type.  I know all toddlers do this, but she thrives on it.

When I was younger, my mother would regale us with "her songs."  These are usually cute little songs of relatively inappropriate lyrics for adults (but only because we have dirty minds).  The one that sticks out most in my mind was entitled, "Wiener City."  She would also extemporize.  Don't get me wrong - my mother can hold a tune.  She taught piano all my life.  She knows music.  So what would possess her to sing an ode to poo?  I swore I would never do this, though I was fully expecting these things to slip into my daily habits once I became a dad.  Sadly, it skipped a generation.

Adelaide has been singing.  She loves to sing and make up her own songs, though she lacks the technical expertise of someone as experienced as my mother.  Today she was singing, or perhaps chanting, "Poo-poo poopy" over and over.  I asked if she had to go use the potty.  She told me, "No," and then proceeded to renew her Aria de Merde with greater vigor.

...while running around without pants on.  She hates them, refuses to wear them.  The only difference between the two of them is that my mother will become self-conscious when other people come over and may see her in such a state.  My child has not yet learned humiliation.

No one warned me about this.