heredity

It's funny what we pass on to our kids, and I say that sitting at the computer eating cold chicken fried rice out of a Chinese take out container.

For breakfast.

I remember walking in the kitchen as a kid and seeing my dad lean against the counter in his bathrobe with the little white take out box in one hand and a fork in the other scarfing down cold fried rice or chow mein.  I thought it was horrible that he did that.  Gross.

But anytime we have Chinese take out you can find me eating cold fried rice out of the carton the next day.  Heredity.

It causes me to wonder what bothersome traits I may pass on to K...  I don't have to search too hard to see ways in which she has already taken after me... she has my imagination.

That can be a beautiful thing, and as I watch her play with dolls or just a piece of paper and hear her whispering secrets to the world she's created I'm proud of her.  When she sits on a chair swinging her legs loudly singing lyrics she's made up on the spot I glow with pride.  When she dictates a poem to me in hopes I'll write it down for her I marvel at her innovation and when she writes and illustrates a fantastic story with nothing more than a pencil and a pad of post it notes I am awestruck...

But all that greatness, it comes at a price.  With all the beautiful wanderings of her mind come the maudlin cries of a girl whose mind can reach the farthest, darkest corners of this universe... and then venture a little further.  Her nightmares and scary imaginings are every bit as vibrant as her dreams and stay with her just as long...

I've explained to her, and I think she understands, that with the good there is often some bad.  Things have a way of balancing themselves out.  That it's hard to grasp happiness when you haven't known sorrow.  Fearlessness without Fear.  Day with out Night...

I'm glad she has such an active imagination, such a creative mind... but sometimes I wish she'd just pick up a carton of cold fried rice instead...