Start ’em young.

There’s a running gag in our house regarding who of us is the most OCD.  Recently, for the fun of it, I swapped the tops on two sippy cups sitting out on the counter, putting a blue top on a pink bottle and vice versa.

Within 10 seconds of entering the kitchen, Jilly honed in the glitch.  “Mommy, silly Daddy put the wrong tops on the bottles.  Can you fix them please?”  Sandy was doing something else at the time and couldn’t get to the problem.  A few minutes later, “Mommy, can you please fix the bottle tops now, please?”

I’ve had had annoying (but non-crippling) OCD for a long time, but I don’t think that I had it when I was 3. Yikes.

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