I wondered how long it would take for Robbie to turn into his father. It turns out, fourteen months. To the day. I walked in to get Robbie out of his crib on Tuesday to find him in a shirt and his diaper. His pants had been thrown onto the floor. Just like a man to want to sleep in his underwear!

And, in my female naiveté, I thought it was a fluke. How wrong I was. I put Robbie down to bed at 7:00 tonight and then stayed upstairs to clean. Robbie decided not to go to bed and stood in his crib saying “Hi” every time he caught a glimpse of me. I peeked in after twenty minutes or so, and there he was. Robbie was standing there with his arms folded on the railing, head on his arms, and adorable, toothy smile on his face. And his pants were tossed in the corner of the crib. I suppose some man genes just can’t be messed with. God help me if he starts taking off his diaper. I’m so not ready for that.

I asked Robbie why his pants were in the corner. He just looked at me like I was an idiot and laughed. I asked him if he wanted me to put them back on, and he kept laughing and shook his head. I didn’t have the energy to argue with a 14-month-old about why he should wear pants to bed. So he’s upstairs, with his uncovered legs curled under his diapered bottom. At least he still has his shirt on. I think.


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