Genes Don't Mean Squat

I get Marcus. It has been like that since as long as I can remember. The way he thinks and acts and processes things... I just feel like I get it. That isn't to say I always like the way he acts, but I understand his behavior. The way he can sometimes be so shy people wonder if he speaks and other times be so loud and outgoing I wish he would stop speaking, it reminds me of myself as a child. He is sneaky and smart and fiercly competitive and a perfectionist and I have been/am all those things too.

Last night I was cooking dinner and he came into the kitchen and asked if he could help. (Him always wanting to help me with chores and cooking is definitely NOT like me as a child at all. I'm not really like that as a grownup either actually.) I said, "Sure! You and Will need drinks. Sean and Aaron need their cups filled. Daddy still needs a drink. And we all need spoons."

He said in an exasperated voice, "Does it look like I have three arms? No. You are just going to have to be patient."

I burst out in laughter. That is exactly what I would have said had he rambled off a list of things he wanted me to do.

Somehow I ended up with my own little miniature version of myself, who came to me from thousands of miles away.

(Here is where I would post a recent picture of just Marcus and me if only I had a recent picture of just Marcus and me. Guess I better get someone to take some pictures of all my kids alone with me at some point.)