Five ways my kids are just like me (that I wish they weren’t)

I’ll be honest I struggled to come up with five ways that my kids are like me (that I wish they weren’t).

Let’s face it, I’m perfect, so if they’re like me in any way that just makes them perfect too. I jest. People that aren’t regular readers of mine (if not, why not?!) won’t know I have two beautiful boys. Big L is approaching 8 and Little L was 3 last week. We can tell Big Ls personality but Little L is pretty much a squirmish of tantrums and hugs. Which brings me on to my first way they are like me…

They blow hot and cold

Little L has a temper, one minute he’ll be sat on your knee wanting cuddles and the next you have to leave him the fuck alone. He loves cuddles but they have to be on his terms. Yup. He’s like me. You aren’t always sure what you’re going to get and even if you’ve got one mood that is subject to change.

They’re too sensitive

I’m very proud of Big L, he’s a very kind and loving boy but he’s like me, too damn sensitive. He’s constantly concerned that he’s going to get told off at school. Worried that no one likes him. Worried he’s upset someone. Sound familiar? Yup he’s just like his mother. I’ve got better over the years but I’m still too concerned about what others think of me, and I’m too worried about upsetting people.

Not cheeky. Not.At.All

They’re cheeky AF

I’ve managed to banter my way out of a fair number of scrapes. Being cheeky has its plus side, it’s (mainly) endearing but there are times it doesn’t wash. It doesn’t work on me because I taught them all they know. Yes they damn well try it. They also flutter their eyelashes at me. To be fair that works but don’t tell them that.

They’re party animals

Ok. they don’t wake up in strange locations with blurred vision and a banging head (yet) but they like to sing and dance and show off usually right before bed… They like karaoke (just like me). They’re fans of a beige buffet, who isn’t? They like cheese balls and Pringles, what can I say? 

Me and my boys

They’re easily distracted

“It’s 8 o’Clock, are you dressed yet” “it’s 5 past 8 are you dressed yet?” “It’s 10 past 8… Why are you still in your pants?!”

“That’s it, I’m turning the television off until you’re ready. Where are your shoes?”

Unfortunately. As much as I hate to admit it they get it from me. I’ll be halfway through writing something then I’ll get a notification and instead of ignoring it I’ll check it. Then I reply to whoever and forget where I was or what I was doing. I can get dressed without being reminded though. Mostly

This post was a part of Write Club

Check out the other (and far superior) posts:

Twins Tantrums and Cold Coffee

Me Them and the Others

Unmindful Mama

Tales from Mamaville

The Mulberry Bush

A Life Just Ordinary

Me Annie Bee

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