Like Mother, Like Daughter


I think we all have that one story from way back when that our friends tell over, and over, and over again. Mine goes like this:

In eighth grade I was walking from lunch with my friends Emily and Nick. We were chatting about something as we headed for class. Unbeknownst to me, Ben was coming up behind us. His and Nick’s favorite pastime was goosing me. Mostly I think because no matter now many times they did it, I squealed every single time.

Ben, of course, goosed me. Only this time, he caught me so off guard that I dropped all my books on the floor. Even worse, the vice principal was mere feet away and looking at me. I pretty much collapsed to the ground in a fit of embarrassed laughter. I suspect the VP was wondering if she needed to call men in white coats.

To this day, in the presence of those two hooligans, I still keep an eye out for possible goosing opportunities. Unfortunately for them, I have a mean back kick now. šŸ™‚

Friday when I went to pick up the girls from daycare, Miss Diva was bouncing a ball with a friend. I snuck up and goosed her. She not only squealed, but hit the ground as if ducking for cover, only sprawled. In that moment, just in case I had any doubts, I confirmed that my daughter does indeed take after me.

Maybe I should teach her how to throw a back kick.

 

 

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