No doubt I have already written about how having children illuminates the extent to which personality traits might actually be written right into your genetic material. Today it occurred to me that my stubborn belief that it is only my inability to adequately explain my position that prevents people from going along with it, and my tendency to therefore continue to explain and counter-explain in an effort to get it right, might actually be genetic. Because I see Naomi do it every single day, when I say no to her, and she argues tirelessly. Because she is so absolutely committed to the idea that if I only just understood her objection, I would have to change my mind. Sigh.
Tonight at bedtime the girls told me what sports they were going to excel in later in life. Basketball, field hockey, Foosball, Carrom, and Flaptacular. The last one is a Disney-branded Tinkerbell version of a card game I think we used to call "Spit," a deck for which we received in a birthday party goodie bag today. Flaptacular! I find Disney branding evil as a rule, but I have to give them some credit for that awesomely ridiculous name.
Here's a picture of us sledding in Arizona last month. More soon!
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