It was a sight for sore eyes.
From what I could see, the acorn had not fallen far from the oak tree.
Just this week, I saw a posting on Facebook that made my apron strings sing. Traci, my oldest daughter, had an absent-minded moment -- just like her mom.
“I’ve lost Hunter’s car seat,” Traci complained on her home page. “I think I took it out of the car at Pottery Barn to load a table, but thinking back I can’t TRULY remember if I did or not.”
(The scary part was, where is Hunter?)
I’ve been waiting for years to see my daughters turn into their mother. It finally has happened — at least with one of them. Those absent-minded moments that nearly drove me to the funny farm now are parked in Traci’s driveway.
I still remember when I did something similar years ago. It happened when Traci asked me to babysit her then-infant son, Justin. At the time, I thought I could juggle the college classes that I was teaching and watch the baby, too.
On a non-teaching winter day, I came out of my office with the baby on one arm and a huge stack of student papers to correct on the other.
Arriving at my car, I needed both hands to strap grandson Justin securely into his car seat. Hurriedly, I started the engine and roared out of the parking lot, dodging melting puddles of snow as I whizzed along the campus lane.
Suddenly, a movement caught my eye. I looked over at Justin. No, it wasn’t him, he was sound asleep. Then in the rearview mirror I saw a paper flying through the air as my car picked up speed.
I’m sure the students wondered why their homework was wrinkled, spotted with mud in places. But they never asked. And I didn’t tell.
To this day, I’ve been thankful that I didn’t set the homework in the car seat and the baby... well, you get the idea.
Also, I’m not sure if I ever told Traci this story. It’s probably too late to post it on Facebook.
Besides, it might make her worry about turning into her mother.