The more they don't, really.
My mother tells stories about how I was her teeny shadow when I was a little'un.
I'd follow her all over the house, dragging my baby dolls and my Fisher Price Farm wherever she went, plopping myself down quietly to play, just to be close to her. I especially liked to follow her into the bathroom.
Between my sister and me, I don't think the woman had a private bowel movement in upwards of six years.
I found it hard to imagine how any child could be so obsessed with her mother that she'd even follow her into the crapper.
Then I had Lily.
(Note the Polly Pockets have replaced the Fisher Price Farm).
HAPPY OBAMA DAY!!!!
The Blizzard of '17
4 days ago