Just Like Me

I can’t stand me.

If you have ever lived with me, you understand.

I’m completely anal about cleanliness and overbearing about the right way to clean things.  I will bore you by repeating myself constantly about nothing important and I’m not just a little stubborn when it comes to proving myself right, no matter how wrong I am.  I run a pragmatic house and you’ll be sorry if you don’t play along.

Before you tell Babafa how sorry you are that he has to deal with me, let me tell you that’s not the worst of it.

Ducky is just like me.

Our morning routine consists of me being late and doing everything I can think of except leave the house.  I will do laundry and dishes and trash.  I pick out Ducky’s clothes and then change my mind.  I shape my eyebrows and clip my nails.  All in a rush and all the while telling Ducky we’re late and he doesn’t have time to jack around.

I put my coffee on to brew this morning and washed the only dish in the sink as Ducky asked me to make him a chocolate milk.  “Yeah.  Why aren’t you dressed yet?”  I ran to my bathroom to brush and blow dry my hair.

“Mom.  My chocolate milk.”

“Does it look like I can make you chocolate milk in the bathroom?  Don’t answer that.  Change your shirt, this one’s cleaner.”

My hair is done, my make up is halfway on and then again… “Mom!”

“Ducky!”

“Would you puh-LEASE make me a chocolate milk?”

“Hold!  On!  Where are your shoes?!”

I throw on my shoes and take a load of clothes out to the wash room.  Now that a new load is in the washer and a wet load is in the dryer, I can finally get to my coffee, but not before Ducky nag nag nags me again.

“Mom.  Where’s my chocolate milk?!”

“Ducky.  Puh-LEASE, just give me some time.”

And with the wildest and most stubborn look in his eye, “Mom.  I have given you PLENTY of time.  PLEN!  TEE!”

I didn’t tell him that he looked just like me, sounded just like me, and I could not stand him at that point in time.

Just.  Like.  Me.

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