Is This Kid Mine?

Genetically, I don't seem to have much affect on my child. She looks just like her father, with the minor exception of the dimple on her chin, which is all me. She also acts just like her father. I mean, scarily so. We should have named her Junior, I think. If it weren't for that dimple, and her propensity for using big words when a small one would do, I'd really be concerned that she only had a half-set of DNA.

The latest evidence that she is absolutely nothing like her mother came as she happily brought home a dead, dried out frog from a little hike she went on with her dad last week. She couldn't wait to show me. "Daddy saw it on a rock," she said. "And he said I could bring it home and keep it!" I looked at her father. He looked back. I looked horrified. He laughed.

Maya skipped off to her room with her new friend. Through the evening I could hear her singing happily. A tune she made up, with words to match. "My Dried Up Frog and Me." Seriously.

The next morning after she went off to school, I was clearing the usual breakfast detritus and school papers from the kitchen counter when my hand brushed something unfamiliar. Yes, I had come into contact with the dried out frog. Unlike my child, this did not make me want to sing. AND IT WAS ON MY KITCHEN COUNTER! I fought the urge to call the design center and order new counters right then and there. I carefully used one of her school papers to shove the frog onto another paper and move it to her room, where at least I didn't have to look at it. Then I washed my hands approximately 348 times.

In her kindergarten class, they have this thing called "The Sharing Tub." It's actually a baby wipes box. Once a week, M has to find something to put inside the tub to show the class. She writes clues on a piece of paper so the others can guess what's inside. I let her choose her own items to put in there, because she does a good job of it, generally, and she can write her own clues. As long as she's not trying to shove the dog in there, I leave it alone. Though, she does claim to be looking for a very small real dog that could fit inside that box. Hmmm.

On sharing tub day, though, Maya got off the bus with a somewhat dejected look on her face. She still had the sharing tub with her. Usually, the tub stays at school or goes with another student when she's done with it. Not this day. She wandered over and said, "Mrs. P says I have to clean out the sharing tub." What? What had my child done to the sharing tub? A quick peek inside told me nothing. The box was empty and appeared clean. I pulled the clue sheet from her backpack. The clues were as follows:
1. It is green.
2. It is dried out.
3. It starts with an F.
Ohhh, Maya. The dried out frog? For sharing tub? Really? Mrs. P had placed the frog inside a ziplock bag in M's backpack, so I found myself in all-too-close proximity of it again. *fullbodyshudder*

When my husband arrived home, I handed him a container of Clorox wipes and suggested that he be the one to help her clean the not-actually-dirty sharing tub. He asked why. And then he had the audacity to look proud. And he laughed. Heaven help me. There are two of him.