I have this image in my mind of our family as Mom and Dad
and our three kids. But that is, of course, largely an illusion since all the
kids who don’t regularly poo themselves in public aren’t biologically ours. And
while I do not mean to suggest that our particular genetic combination causes
public turd squirting, the fact remains that Eli is not Juli and Gabriel’s dad –
he’s their brother. And I am not related at all.
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| This is kid I remember! |
Here’s the problem with brother vs. father: Eli and Gabriel
aren’t, relatively speaking, all that far apart in age. And now that Gabriel is
about to turn 16 and is decidedly no longer the little goofball eleven year old
I first met, suddenly there are two men living in my house who look exactly the same. When one of them walks into a room, I
can no longer tell with my peripheral vision which one it is.
It’s totally creeping me out, you guys!
I’ll just be sitting innocently on the sofa, reading a book,
and a guy will stroll in. “Hey baby,” I will say, “Did you fla-flanging…you’re
not baby.”
*awkward pause*
Seriously, I cannot stress this enough – one of them is my
husband and the other one is super NOT. What. The. Crap.
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| Sigh. |
Ummmm like, does this HAPPEN to other people?? All you mom’s
with grown sons out there – does your offspring look so much like his father
that a cursory glance can no longer tell them apart? Does that totally skeeve
you out??
