Very little drives Diana nuts about me. Which is good because it’s nice to be married. Some things that do drive her nuts about me include (in no particular order): Leaving things in the sink to rot. Leaving my clothes on the floor to rot. Not having my cell phone on me when she really needs to get a hold of me.
But the thing that drives her craziest is my inability to pass a mirror without looking at myself. I have never met a reflective surface I didn’t like. Diana will actually sit with her back away from windows at restaurants so I won’t spend the whole time smiling at myself in the reflection.
What’s the big deal? I mean, pride isn’t one of the Seven Deadly Sins or anything. What’s that? Huh? I can’t hear you. I’m trying to see my own reflection in my computer screen.
Anyhoo, it seems as though my son has inherited my love of mirrors. Elijah can be in the crabbiest mood in the world, but if you stick him in front of the bathroom mirror, he cracks up. His expression is that of, “Heeeeeyyy, where did this good looking baby come from? Hello, handsome…” If you position him in the right way, he can see himself in two, count ‘em, two mirrors at the same time. It’s like a good-looking baby party.
p.s. Our digital camera is on the fritz. So you’ll have to deal with this slightly out of date photo. I have a feeling Santa is dropping several hundred dollars while I write.
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