People tell me all the time that looking at Emily is like looking at me.
There's the hair and the pigtails, of course.
There's the way she scrunches her nose and cuts her eyes.
There's the little twist in her walk and the slight pigeon- toe.
Then there are the less physical resemblances...
Her love of words, whether its "reading" back a favorite story or using words well beyond her three years...
Her single-mindedness, which sometimes is mistaken for stubbornness...
Her need to snuggle up close when she sleeps.
This weekend, it became clear she also shares not only my love of cleaning but my preferred cleaning method as well.
Good thing the bottle of cleaner is non- toxic because by the time I knew she had it, she was well on her way to spraying half the kitchen.
"I just got to clean this window. See that spot. It's dirty."
Well, you do have a point...
She even likes to clean in her underwear like me.
"Mommy, this table is a mess."
Should I bother to tell her that those spots are bite marks from their teething days? Nah, she's having too much fun...
Surely dancing while cleaning is not related to genetics, but she even dances while she cleans-- just like me.
Not sure you'll ever catch me cleaning the car's headlights, but otherwise,
it's like looking in a (super clean) mirror.