Claire and I are eating lunch. We’re having scrambled eggs. Normally, she’s very good at using utensils, but sometimes she’s hungrier than she is skilled, and she holds her fork in her left hand and shovels her food in with her right.
This is one of those times.
So, I look over at her, and I say, “Don’t forget to use your fork. It’s right there in your hand.”
And then I hear this perfectly sing-songy little voice say, “I know,” as she shovels another handful of eggs into her mouth.
Whoa. If I’m not mistaken, that sounded exactly like me. Right back atcha, there, Momma. 
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