Wired

Sometimes when I look at one of the kids, I get a preview of things to come, a glimpse of what they'll look like when they're older. Miss Diva often shocks me by looking scarily just like me. It could be a look, a laugh, something she says, a gesture, but the mini-me is there. Today, she's playing the DS and talking on the Bluetooth to my husband: seven going on seventeen and wired to the hilt, an eerie echo of me with my PDA and phone.