I know you from somewhere.

Families are weird. The resemblance. The mannerisms.

Becoming your parents is also weird. It tends to be a surprise attack. You are standing in the kitchen one day and notice a few dishes in the sink. No biggie. Then you really start to think about these said dishes.

You realize these dishes are the same ones you saw yesterday. Except now the macaroni and cheese is now crusted on in such a way that getting it off is going to require way more arm strength than would have been required had the noodle/cheese combination been removed on the day it was prepared.

Arm strength that you shouldn't have to use. Because you did not eat this food. But you need to use the cooking apparatus that the macaroni was cooked in. Which now means that in order for you to enjoy your meal you need to clean up after other people.

And then you become agitated.

And you start mumbling things under you breath about the roommate who did this to you. The grown roommate. The one who is fully capable of cleaning up after themselves. But doesn't. Making you have to clean up their mess after you get home.

And that's not what you want to do when you get home from a long day of work. Or school. Or both. And that's when it hits you.

You are becoming your mother.

Almost everyone grows up claiming that they are never going to be like their parents. As if they can control it. It's about as controllable as looking like them.

Scary thought, yes.

Good thing my parents are so intelligent and attractive.