In second grade I had a small cyst on the back of my right hand that zipped up and down when I clenched and unclenched my fist. I found it very impressive and even showed it to this kid on the playground in the hopes that he would find me amazing too. I don't remember that technique working too well with the boys, but anyway, one day my little cyst friend was gone.
There in the dark booth surrounded by the dreamy aroma of seasoned lamb my cyst reappeared on Sean's hand - the exact spot, the exact size, the exact zipping up and down! I guess my expression was ghastly because poor Sean tightened up and grabbed his hand, "What!? Is that bad?!" His eyes widened.
The poor thing. Just a few weeks before we'd discovered that he has little warts between his toes and guess what? Me again. I had to have them cut off as a young child his age. When we found them I reassured him that I would try some simply methods to get them to go away
Today Seth and I took Sean to get an ice cream and they know us well there at the store. The lady said to me, "Man, he's just a little version of your husband, isn't he?" I said yes, that I wasn't sure how my husband created that little one without a speck of me in there. Seth drove home. Sean sat in the back seat licking away on his ice cream cone and the little Mommy's boy said thoughtfully, "Mom, I'm a lot like you actually...the warts....the cysts..."
Oh, I don't know which was more hilarious, that comment or the look on the 17 year old's face when he snapped his head around for my reaction.