Ah. That's My Girl

When DH's and my sex cells played a million rounds of rock-paper-scissors to determine whose genes would be dominant in our children, my eggs were obviously unclear on the game rules. Or maybe my ova were just senile, being of the aged variety. "So ... you're saying I just keep saying paper, right?" I imagine my eggs asked foggily. "Oh yeah, that's how it works," replied DH's wily, wily sperm.

And as a result, out came the As. Big A looks and acts like a clone of my MIL. Little A has DH's temperament and looks. They do not resemble or act like me in the slightest. Not ever.

Which is why when I saw Big A doing this, I let out a big sigh of recognition. See, she IS like me after all!