“I have your nose” my daughter says as she dips her bread into the olive oil at breakfast.

“I know.” I don’t know how many times I have heard her say this. She even told her best friend that one could tell we were related via our noses.

I am attempting to get her to move a bit faster this morning as Spanish class awaits. “You do not have my sense of timing though.” The child is usually a tad on the late side.

“No, I have Daddy’s sense of that!”