Genetic Make-Up

It's all so clear to me now.

I had an epiphany this morning, as I drove home from a failed attempt for some fun reading time at the library with a screaming, screeching, kicking toddler in the seat behind me.

This is Jane's genetics at work here.

Sure, I know this is all a part of life. Every child goes through this. I am aware (painfully, in fact) of this bit of trivia. But Jane -- she's a tyrant. And it's in her history to be such.

Here's a little-known fact about me: I, along with countless others, have King John as an ancestor. It's true. And he was a tyrant.

I mention this only because I'd like to misplace blame and childhood here and blame it on her heritage of British tyranny for her royal fits.

I briefly considered, much as my sister did last month, to offer my child up for lease. Just a year or so, then she could come back.

I thought of all the enticing facts for leasers. She comes with an extensive wardrobe, complete with a myriad of accessories (just like a Barbie doll). She loves to read. She is very generous with her kisses and love (except during her king-sized fits). When she gets up in the morning, she is all cuddles and love. And when she knows you're upset and/or crying, she is the biggest comfort to have -- complete with pats on the back and holding your face for Eskimo kisses.

And when I considered all these things, complete with how I feel when I hold or see her, I decided against my lease option.

After all, like my mom and SIL like to constantly remind me during her fits and stubborn streaks: Look who her mother is.