Sorry. More hash. Or is this rehash?

Like many adoptive parents, Mark and I are sometimes stunned by how much our kids take after us. Even physical similarities, like Sam's feet ... just like his dad's (and Fred Flintstone's, although there's no connection there we can establish) ... and the way Cj can roll her tongue like I can, go far to strengthen our view that these kids were meant to be ours.

My son is a Super Hero. Well, today he's a Super Hero. Last week he was a velociraptor , so this saving-the-world stint could also be short-lived. At least this persona comes with a bit of a hint ... one of his sister's cloth diapers tied around his neck flaps convincingly behind him when he flies through the living room. It may be stained and dingy, but it's apparently endowed with some amazing powers. The only clue to his previous dino-identity was a double limp-wristed pose intended to convey the image of 'tiny hands with big fingernails', a classic velociraptor trait.

Everyone in my family has a dramatic flair ... a charming, if sometimes annoying, attribute ... and Sam and Cj have inherited the full whack. Cj was roaring like a T-Rex to get her brother's attention when she was four months old and now (She'll be a year old in three days!) can fake both laughter and crying, mug for a camera, pretend to be shy on request, and never hesitates to give herself a round of applause after a sterling performance.

Sam has language, so that extra tool in his repertoire. His usual Friday performance played out this morning as Mark prepared to leave for work. Perpetually disappointed by the five-day workweek, Sam resents the heck out of the fifth day and really, really, really wants Mark to stay home with him.

"I'm so sad," he says almost every Friday morning. "I have tears!"

He'll then try like anything to produce a couple, but is only successful if not distracted by Dad's promise to bring home balloons. That seems to break his concentration and send the "method" out the window.

He's reworking some of the old classic songs, too, with new lyrics that fit the scene in our house. Number One recently on his Hit Parade is something he calls: Bob the Baby. Sung to the tune of "Bob the Builder", it's popular when Cj's been especially productive and goes like this:

Bob the Baby
Can we poop it?
Bob the Baby
YES WE CAN!
A singing Super Hero and a mini-Garbo! Yep! These kids are mine ...