There’s a New Yorker cartoon that’s so fantastic I’ve framed it. It features a guy lying on a couch in his therapist’s office, worrying, “But if you cure my hypochondria I won’t have any hobbies.”

I understand his concern. Perhaps too well.

When I came into the kitchen this morning, David said, “Your children are learning some wonderful lessons from you.”

Sensing his sarcasm, I asked, “Oh, to which quality of mine do you refer? My drive to run a marathon? Or perhaps my disdain for cookies?”

Rolling his eyes, he continued. “Grace came down this morning and said her stomach was sore.”

Okay?

“She then immediately wondered if her stomach area is where her pancreas is.”

I saw where this was going.

“Did you remind her,” I asked, “that she did a lot of sit-ups with me yesterday as I suffered through Jillian Michaels’ 20-minute Shred?” (Which, by the way, should be renamed Jillian Michaels’ 20 minutes of pure, unadulterated hell.)

“Yes, I did. But I think that the bigger issue is that she did remember that…and then asked if a pancreas can explode.”

“Where is she?” I asked.

“Well, I think she’s consulting with your favorite person, Dr. Google.”

So my finest traits aren’t the only ones my oldest has adopted. But she does like to eat cookies with me.

—

What personality traits have your kids picked up from you that you wish they hadn’t?