I walk like a duck.

An embarrassing, but true fact that I’ve always known but had sort of forgotten, until I caught a glimpse of my feet in a reflection as I sauntered down the hallway of my dentists’ office yesterday. I immediately corrected my stance, but alas the memory of this image has haunted me since, following me as I push the stroller down our street or walk around our yard. Now as I gaze around our house, I realize this may explain why I collect so many images of ducks, baskets that look like ducks and duck sculptures. I am naturally drawn to my own kind. Spooky.
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