if only they came with an instruction manual

earlier today as i was getting ready for work i noticed my seven-year-old wandering throughout our condominium as she dutifully performed her morning brushing duties. and i couldn't help but be amused as i watched her move from room to room while she scrubbed away with her much-worn spongebob squarepants toothbrush. amused because i, myself, have been known to stray from the narrow confines of my own washroom on occasion while performing my twice-daily oral hygiene ritual. and amused because it occurred to me that my eldest child could have only acquired her somewhat unconventional brushing habits from one person and one person alone - namely, me.

and that prompted me to pause for a moment to reflect on some of my daughter's other youthful yet highly-developed idiosyncrasies. like her penchant for taking 40-minute showers every evening just prior to lights out. and her almost instinctive tendency to respond to a question with another question as she attempts to draw out her interrogator's true intentions.

and suddenly i was struck by the blinding realization that in many ways, children are almost preordained to take on at least a portion of their parents' several and varied mannerisms and eccentricities.

look, i am hardly the world's greatest father. and with the growing recognition that my offspring will likely adopt many of the quirks and foibles of their old man as they grow older, i am now more motivated than ever to provide them with a shining example that will one day allow them to say they are proud of what their dear old dad had taught them.

ah, what the hell