One of the greatest fears in life is that you will turn into your mom.  Well, as it turns out, when a certain 10 year old asks you why you always do things the way your mom did, and you know he is only asking because you always say, (as justification for your actions and in a somewhat snarly voice), “because this is the way my MOM did it”, well, then you know you have become your mom.  

So, fear realized. . . not so bad. 

Take a leap with me  here, and remember that I have the most adorable yorkie in the world, Chesterfield.  But, as it turns out, HE has a slight addiction.  He loves to lick.  And I’m not talking just a quick pass by with the tongue (note, that is a kiss), but a full on session of mono-y-mono time, I’m gonna lick your hand off with a devilish look in my eye time,  pink tongue to bare skin love time, brought to you by none other than the one and only nutt time.  (Note, Chesterfield may also be referred to as the the nutt, chester, ches, bunnel, bunce, and confusingly, many, many more).  But the thing is, I have grown used to it.  And I don’t mind. . . I actually enjoy spending some cuddle time with my little bunnel.  

That is, up until the feet thing started.  

A few days ago, Chester’s tongue and my feet got acquainted.  For him, no big woop.  For me, getting used to the tongue was a little strange, but only initially, and then it was fine. . . nice. . . comfortable. . . enjoyable.  And then. . . it happened.  The moment we have all feared and never admitted to ourselves, the moment where epiphany takes over your life and lends a hand in a way you never would have expected, the moment you have that detached out of body experience that is really just a drug induced nightmare, and you wake up in one of those states you never imagined.  Mine was Heaven.  

Which is when it all hit me: I’ve turned into my Grandma.