My parents insist that my youngest daughter also acts...EXACTLY...like I did, at her age.  You know, like, how the girl just can't seem to slow down, or focus on doing one thing, without running off into a million different directions, at once!

"It's like watching you, all over again."

And, if you were to ask my husband, Garth [not his real name] his thoughts on raising Hope [formerly known as Mini-Me] the youngest of our 4 rugrats, recently turned kidlet; should be easy, right?

"My only goal in life is to reach 50, before she, you know, kills me!"

She's almost 8 now, 6 years since I first started blogging, but I find myself writing less and less about my Mini-me...I mean, Hope...because, you know, she CAN read now.

"She's mommy's little ticket into heaven!"

My mother just sits and grins and tries to convince me not to worry about the future, like, when Hope becomes a teenager...[cringe]...too much.

"You can always send her over to our house."

Yeah, my parents spoil their grandchildren (terribly) so, it's very difficult for me to convince my children that these are NOT the same people I grew up with, but my father is quick to add that having grandchildren is a blessing.

"They are our little tickets into heaven."

[blank stare]

Hey...wait a minute...pshaw...d'oh, nevermind.

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