I remember being small… well, smaller… and constantly getting in trouble. I understand it now. It was never that I was a bad kid, it was that my mom expected more out of me. I find myself doing and saying many of the same things to my son. It amazes me that no matter how adamant I was about doing things differently, I am so very similar. As I grew and looked back, I realized she had it right. I don’t know if I ever told her how right she was, or that I finally figured it out.