I’m pretty sure that Lauren is going to be a teacher one day. Or a school principal. Or as my sister has always predicted, a passport inspector at the border, potentially FBI, best case scenario Navy Seal.

She has an unmatched eye for detail and is a stickler for the rules.

Her first few words were “fuff” and “fedde”, fluff and feather.  She’d spot these with accuracy from her perch on the couch, tiny pieces of lint on the floor, or miniscule little feathers that had drifted down from our sofa’s down cushions.  She would pick them up gently, hold them up to the light, and investigate them like a detective.  It wasn’t long before she’d earned the nickname CSI.

Her rule abiding is even more impressive for a girl of her age. Even as a five-year old, she’s easily exasperated by bad behavior.

She recently found an old copy of US Weekly magazine, walked into the living room and pronounced “Ugh. This is unacceptable. This man is swimming in his underpants!”

Bathroom humor does not fly with her, period.  The other day Sam came running over to us and said “Mommy, wanna hear something funny? The chef cooks the poop!”  (Mom turned her head and snickered). 

Lauren: “Sam, that is NOT a funny joke at all.” 

Even her parents are targets.

After dropping her off at skating camp this summer, I urged her to go with her instructors.

“They’re not instructors mom.”

“OK, go with your teachers.”

“They’re not teachers either.”


“No, (eyes rolling), they’re Staffs.”

“OK, well I’m just going to wait for you in the changing room.”

“It’s not the changing room Mom.”

(Exasperated) “What is it Lauren?”

“It’s the club lounge.”

“Excuse me, but your club lounge has exposed cinderblocks and rivets in the wall.  I’ll wait for you in the changing room.”

But I love her with my whole being.  I still don’t understand how I’m related by flesh and blood to this little creature.  Me, the one who blurts out to strangers that I’m weaning myself off sleep meds, or has a little too much to drink at the office party.

How on Earth did I give birth to a rule-maker.  A rule-enforcer. 

But she’s a part of me, no doubt.  She loves me, and blows me kisses when I drop her off at her activities.  She makes my heart beat out of my chest.

We went apple picking the other day, and she was so happy to pick the crisp apples off the trees. 


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