It was early Saturday morning and no one in the house had really started moving yet.  I was in my pajamas, enjoying my morning coffee and making shopping plans on the phone with Hilly and Faiqa.

Emma came bursting out of the sliding glass door onto the back patio.  She was wearing nothing but her underwear and her face was partially concealed by the giant orange slice she had crammed in her mouth.

“Mom!  Mom!  You have got to have an orange!  They are deLISHus!” she gushed.

“Mommy doesn’t eat oranges,” it was impossible not to smile at her excitement over oranges.

“Mmmm!  They are so good!  They are so juicy!”  Her eyes danced and in that moment, as she stood there in her underwear with orange juice running down her chest, totally lost in citrus euphoria, I couldn’t help but think that she was definitely her father’s daughter.  Many a phone call has been interrupted by my husband because I just had to taste this and could I believe how great this was?

The child has inherited her father’s appreciation for simple pleasures.

I finished up my phone call and went back in the house to refill my coffee cup.  I was half way through the living room on my way into the kitchen when I heard the door to Devin’s bedroom yank open.  Yes, I heard it.  I don’t know how children open doors but it is different than how adults open doors.  And it’s louder.

Devin exploded from his room out into the living room.  He, too, was in nothing but his underwear.  I live with some strange people, clearly.

Without saying a word to anyone, he ran into the middle of the living room.  He stopped, popped his hips out so that his knees bent and his butt stuck out – and slapped himself on the backside.

Jared instantly turned to look at me.  I didn’t wait for the accusation and quickly turned back towards to the kitchen.

I don’t know where that one gets it from.