The other day I was looking at some recent pictures that I’ve taken of the girls and something about them struck me as strangely familiar.  Besides their faces I mean.  Because those are familiar, considering I’ve been looking at them for quite some time now.

But something about their faces was familiar.

At first I couldn’t put a finger on it.

It wasn’t that they resemble any one relative in particular.

It wasn’t an expression.

It wasn’t a certain twinkle in their eye or a a dimple or anything like that.

Something though, something nagged at me.

And I hate being nagged.  So I pulled out my trusty self-hypnosis CD and popped it in, hoping that through the power of hypnosis I would be able to flip through my subconscious like a card catalog and retrieve the memory.

Okay, you got me.  I didn’t really do that.  I don’t even own a self-hypnosis CD anymore.

Turns out I didn’t need to hypnotize myself.

Because it came to me.

My doodles!  Or drawings.  Whatever you want to call them.

When I was young (even younger than I am now believe it or not), I used to doodle.  I know, newsflash right?  My artistic skills certainly weren’t getting me any scholarships, but they were helping to pass the time during Algebra class.  So I doodled a lot.  In addition to passing notes and just generally doing whatever I could to avoid mathematical equations.

In addition to your typical hearts and rainbows and little sperm-y looking creatures (what?  doesn’t everybody doodle sperm?) I doodled people.

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I doodled faces.  Because my people were pretty much floating heads.  And, with little variation, they looked like this:

I know.  I totally missed my calling right?

Or not.

What I may have missed, however, was a lucrative career with the psychic network.

Because, um, hello?  The resemblance between my floating head drawings and my daughters?  Un. Canny.

And these drawings are circa, 1990 something.

Yet there I was predicting the trend of teenagers wearing their hair over one eye, some twenty years later.

Which, by the way, is totally hawt.

Much like my mad psychic skillz.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my phone is about to ring; the Psychic Friends Network is going to offer me a job.