I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that there are just some behaviors in your kids that they’re born with. You can’t talk them out of it no matter how hard you try. It’s also possible that somehow your kids will be opposite you in ways you can’t believe. My mom is a hoarder. It was funny at first, but now it’s a little bit creepy. (Remember “Joe”?) I’m her daughter. You’d think I’d be like her and be comforted by having stuff around me, like piles and piles of it. I’m the opposite of my mom. Too much stuff makes me feel chaotic and crazy. I thought my daughter would be just like me. That a love of ‘stuff’ is just a quality of my mom’s. WRONG. I’m the opposite of my mom and my daughter is the opposite of me…which means….my daughter is just like my mom. Egads! She’s a little mini-hoarder! I try to throw her things out so I feel calm and comforted; and she freaks out because she NEEDS stuff to feel calm and comforted.

Honestly. She NEEDS stuff around her. She sleeps with a dozen or so stuffed animals, books, Squinkies, etc; but it’s not just stuffed animals she has a personal connection with. She connects with boxes, pieces of papers, catalogues…and now…her favorite toy is…a baster. I’m not joking.

On Thanksgiving, I bought a new baster. It’s a pretty nice one. Red, squeezable, and able to suck up juices and baste away. I couldn’t find it on Thanksgiving until I heard my daughter playing with “Puffy”. “Oh, Puffy,” she’d say. “I love you!” I snuck around the corner and sure enough, Simone was squeezing that baster with as much love as she’d give a kitten.

I took it from her and she screamed and was horrified that I immediately filled Puffy with burning hot turkey juice. Simone cried big tears. “NooOOoOooO!” It was like I was torturing her friend. To calm her down, I promised I’d buy her her very own baster and thought she’d forget about it.

She didn’t. She’s now had her very own Puffy for about a week. I’m a little horrified that she’s so attached to this baster. I mean, I do want her to be an independent woman, but I’m worried she’s already given up on finding a mate and Puffy is (in the future) going to inseminate her. But maybe I’m 0ver-thinking this.

Whatever. My daughter loves her baster. Who am I to criticize? I have a fondness for sausage logs and sasquatches. So, I guess in that sense, my daughter is exactly like me. Maybe we both have issues.