I am my father’s daughter

Here I sit in the quiet lamplight, offspring in bed and spouse reading a book beside me. Tinny trumpety jazz is playing low on the laptop as I clickety-clack on the keyboard.

Swap the Maynard Ferguson for Miles Davis, give me more of a beard, and I’d actually be my Dad.

Whoa. The apple has fallen like two centimeters from the tree.

January 26, 2006 | Filed Under family unit

Comments

4 Responses to “I am my father’s daughter”

Malnurtured Snay on January 26th, 2006 9:58 pm

…

“More of …”
supa on January 27th, 2006 12:42 am

what? you didn’t notice the Wolverine-style locks flowing from my chin? Jeez, Snay.
Dad on January 27th, 2006 9:26 pm

Ahhhh
supa on January 28th, 2006 12:04 am

Ha ha! See, Dad, it all makes sense.