Two Percent

Ninety eight percent of the time, it’s easy to see that Tyler is MY child. IMG_6475

(This is not because he’s beautiful.)

He has the same sense of humor, the same love of traveling. He’s starting to get into food, and his current favorite meal is the Cooks Illustrated Caesar Salad. He loves hats.


His side-eye is tremendous.

When they’re tiny, children are almost literally an extension of you, and it’s hard to eventually accept the notion that they are, in fact, independent beings.

It’s been a complete blessing that Tyler has grown into a person that I honestly enjoy being around. And other people, especially grown-ups, seem to like him too!


However, two times in the last week, I’ve been reminded that he’s not a mini-Windy, after all.

For one thing, he Does Not Like Converses. He goes through tennis shoes on a bi-monthly basis, because he either destroys or outgrows them. I’ve begged him to get Converses, with the promise that “it’s just for a couple of months!” but no dice.

Second, he’s persistently had a disturbing affinity for WWE wrestling, and in fact attended a WWE event on Sunday with his father. Double-you. Double-you. Eee. Wrassling. LIVE. Oh. My. God.

I just can’t even.


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