When we first met in Zhangzhou China, she hated me. Once we got home, things changed pretty quickly. I noticed that she—again a little Chinese girl—looks a bit like this early picture of me. Take my word for it, and SD agrees with me.
It didn’t take long to realize we were two left-handed peas in a pod. SD is an irrepressible comedian, rolling away from Doc on the bed in hysterics the very first time she tried to change her. She’s totally a chip off the old knucklehead.
(I don’t plan to post identifiable pix of my daughters.)
She has an hilariously idiosyncratic view of things, one I know all too well, and she has me laughing all the time. I just asked her if she wants to play on my iPad while I finish this post, and she replied, “If I must.”
Then there’s her combining of odd foods—multiple mustards one day—and how often the combos are delicious, like my childhood A1 sauce/American cheese/mayonnaise/white bread sandwich.
SD keeps a complex family hierarchy of stuffed animals in bed like I did, and she wiggles herself under the covers so as not to have to unmake the bed just like I used to.
The list goes on and on.
And she’s cuddly and just incredibly sweet.
Probably the best part is that I can watch her wheels turning any time I look. And it’s amazing how often I know just what she’s thinking, whether lost in thought or examining some object.
To have an adopted mini-me is mind-blowing: We’re not supposed to be connected biologically, even though we all really are. It’s amazing and so much fun.
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