Nature and Nurture

From the time I was in high school until Amelia was born, I spent every Halloween building haunted houses for charity. I have severe claustrophobia issues, so I don't actually enjoy walking through a haunted house, but I like building them. I like horror movies, and I'm crafty, so it was the perfect project for me. Then, we adopted Amelia, and I got to trick-or-treat again instead of building haunted houses, and that was fun, too.

Not pictured: A pillowcase full of Twix.

As Amelia's gotten older, it's been fun to see which traits she's picked up from me, and which traits are naturally a part of her. Lately, it seems that she's more herself than she is me. She is extroverted where I'm introverted. She loves the outdoors where I'm bookish. She has more interest in building with blocks than drawing with markers. I adore superheroes and she prefers My Little Pony.

That's okay. I've always encouraged her to be herself. In fact, as she's gotten older, we've been getting along better because we're not the same. I can wheedle her out of a bad mood. She can wake me up on a slow morning. Still, I've always selfishly hoped that she'll take something from me.

Then, today, I walked into my bedroom and found this taped to the closet:

Behind that door was a little girl yelling "Boo" with all her might.

"Was I scary?" she asked.

"Yes," I told her. "You were terrifying."

I was lying. I wasn't frightened. I was proud.

 If this is the only way she ever takes after me, I'll consider motherhood a job well done.