The apple doesn't fall far from the tree

Before you have children you should have to spend a lot of time *really* getting to know yourself. I am not talking a Meyers-Briggs test, or figuring out what you are good at, what you need out of life to fill your cup of self-esteem or even having your colors done. I am talking about recognizing and acknowledging those qualities about yourself that are really...annoying. Difficult on the people around you. Perhaps if all the future parents out there were forced to do this before the big day arrived they wouldn't be so surprised several years later when it dawns on you (with horror) that you have created a *mini-me*.

When they are younger mini-me can be very cute. Oh look, she loves pink and shoes and handbags, just like her mama. Oh look, mini-me is walking around the house toting a Nordstrom shopping bag and a pretend credit card. Oh, isn't it sweet that mini-me can't carry a tune and doesn't know it? And my proudest: isn't it great how mini-me has organized all her books into categories and sub-categories? These things are quaint when mini-me is 2 or 3. But eventually they get older and the less-than-desireable qualities of a mini-me start showing themselves.

Case in point: my mini-me has declared that manual labor isn't really *her thing*. As a result, she expects that all chores should be taken off her plate and redistributed (preferably to her younger brother) and she should be responsible for things such as ensuring we all have the appropriate accessories. Mini-me also has *world class litigator* in her career future. She can argue anything, anytime, with anyone until you decide you have a better chance of winning the lottery than you do winning an argument with her. Example: last spring mini-me was convinced that Washington, DC was actually a part of Virginia. Apparently some sort of annex or suburb near as I could tell. She presented several (equally untrue and illogical) arguments to support her claim, and even when confronted with a MAP, refused to acknowledge she was wrong.

One time I asked my husband if he thought it was harder being me and having to deal with me, or being him and having to deal with two *me*s. He just smirked.