You know you're my kid when ...

You have a 50/50 chance of being the one who was dutifully picking up the raisins you spilled this morning, and then screamed in fear and dropped the large wiggling “raisin” with antennae you found under the desk. You now fondly refer to this as the “raisin-bug” incident, and mom refers to it as the “time to have the landlord call the exterminator again” incident. Enough said.

You have “just a minute” on the list of your first words.

You know that mom CAN be silly, but doesn't really like to be, and that she gets cranky when you're silly most of the time.

You hear “come Here if you want help!” from the time you can walk. Unless you're screaming bloody murder of course.

You know “you'll be ok” because mom tells you that all the time. For now you believe her.

You have climbing into a warm bed with two in-denial-about-the-clock adults down to a science. You know that a sure way to get them up, and get in trouble, is to dig your elbow into a bladder or an eye.

You know the intense pull of a book, ANY book, and the frustration of being dragged away from it. You know mom understands because she does the same thing, but it doesn't seem fair at all.

You know mama runs a lot, and you have an inkling that sometimes she's running away. She always comes back though.

You still think home haircuts are cool. Or you don't know what a haircut is yet, and eat your hair as much as your food.

You understand guilt well, and are able to use it to your advantage, long before you know what the word means.

You know how to hold grudges, and long to be teased out of them. You often are. You learned from a master sulker.

You feel frustrated by how much is going on in your head, and never have enough time to get it all down/out/explained.

You talk early, and often.

You eye doctors with curiosity and awe, but believe almost all medicine comes in spoons, eyedroppers, and teas. You don't know yet this makes you unusual.

You get frustrated very easily, especially by things that don't work the way you think they will. You express this vocally and loudly.

You remember every promise or implied promise, and are devastated if mom doesn't.

You love unconditionally.

You're a lightweight who'd rather snack all day than waste time at the table eating a meal.

You love to make gifts and give them to your parents.

You expect to understand things and be able to figure them out. You also expect to be able to do them well right off the bat. You don't get “having to work hard for something” very well yet. You're learning though.

You know mom putting you to bed means a storybook, and dad putting you to bed means a homegrown tale of mystery and intrigue. You still fuss when mom says it's her turn.

You have Alone Time down pat, and don't mind your parents taking it as long as you get full attention from whichever parent is home. You know both are more indulgent when the other isn't home.

You dream big. You are beautiful. You are stubborn. You are creative. You are intense. You are dramatic. You have dancing eyes and a ready laugh. You hardly remember life without a brother.

Your mom expects you to need therapy when you get older, and is coming to terms with it. You don't know this yet, but you do know she expects a lot of things of you. She's sorry for it. She expects the same things of herself.

You remember Farmer's Market Saturdays, the big rock at Fort Greene Park, summer sprinklers, water balloon fights, quesadillas, the Co-op School, kombucha, Sunday night singing, visiting cousins and family and the ocean, petting Dominic, Mister Charles, having housemates, Chinatown afternoons, the Brooklyn Bridge, the lego stash at Aunt Ruths, and fireworks in Prospect Park.

You are amazing, adored, humbling, frustrating, mirroring, stretching, and mine to raise.

cross posted over here. yes I've been quiet lately. chewing a lot on my faith and how I show/share/feel about it.