A few weeks ago, I watched in amusement (and horror) as Quinn reached for our T.V. remote (the one we’d de-batteried and left within her general reach), cupped it to her ear, and said “Hieee?”

Had she really seen me on the phone that much? No, I had been careful about not talking too much, or at least talking when I thought she was otherwise engaged, or at least talking for only very very short conversations. Hadn’t I?

But the reality of the situation was right there, staring me in the face. “Hieee?” my 14-month-old said expectantly and expertly into the remote. Then, she turned and looked at her “phone,” and swiped her finger across it, iPhone scroll style.  Cringe. She could really only have gotten it from me.

Look out mamas: that adorable little lump is really just a sponge, absorbing your every move and just waiting until he has the motor skills and the cognitive ability to re-enact them.

I’ve comforted myself that Q didn’t know how to use the remote as an actual remote. That would have definitely been worse.

There are many more mimicries that haven’t filled me with terror and shame (and in all honesty, the phone thing is really, really cute, too). Like how Quinn puts her hands on her hips and surveys her surroundings, just like I do. Or how she blows on her food when I tell her it’s hot.

The best has been watching how loving she is with her stuffies. “Is Blue Bear tired?” I ask, and she will pick him up, put him over her shoulder and pat him, carrying him slowly around the room. That really melts my heart, and it comforts me that I’ve been loving and dear with her, at least most of the time, because babies just don’t lie.

Now I’m just working on only making nice faces at myself in the mirror, not cursing under my breath when I stub my toe really hard and about a million other things….