It’s always interesting seeing which of our traits and tendencies Miles seems to adopt. Occasionally, this is also a chilling experience. He was beside me on the couch this evening, when he uttered a sentence I had hoped to never hear from him.
“I need backrub.”
My eyes widened. “What?” I asked, praying I had heard him wrong.
“Daddy, I need a backrub.”
Jaclyn, frequent demander of backrubs that she is, was delighted. I, as primary rub provider, was profoundly dismayed. Where did he get this from? Did he simply hear his mother talking about them? Was it actually a genetic disposition?
Whatever the case, it seems I am now doomed to live my life in service to two demanding massage enthusiasts.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 