My husband and I went to visit our daughter the other week. Each time we visit I come away with an eerie feeling that I have just visited someone else’s child.

What imposter has taken over my child?

The same girl who wrecked my furniture and stained my comforters with makeup and markers now has a place of her own, and it is pristine.

The same child who kept a room eligible for a Hoarders TV show intervention is now as neat as a pin. Where are the dirty dishes? The dishwater left in the sink? Where are the dirty clothes thrown on the floor and the soda cans and candy wrappers under the bed? What happened to the little girl who thought her bathtub was self-cleaning?

It was surreal to see my daughter following behind my husband and me turning off lights. The same girl who earned me a $600 cell phone bill her first semester in college now says you better be bleeding if you call her on peak cell time.

And it’s ironic that the same girl who damaged our hearing with her loud music now says, "Mom, can you turn the volume down, please."

I remember when she was little and I was trying to teach her ABC's and numbers. I would tell her the color then ask her to name it, and I remember the head-boiling frustration I felt when, each time, she named it wrong.

Somewhere along the way, it all began to make sense to her. She got the connection, and once out of the gates, she was in full educational sprint.

I guess it’s like that with chores, too. Somewhere along the line, the fog lifts and suddenly kids begin to understand that a toilet brush isn’t a hundred-pound weight. That a clean bedroom doesn’t make you go insane. That you won’t likely get a fatal disease from a dishcloth.

She understands that a light switch goes in both directions. She has learned that her brains won’t fall out if she removes the cell phone from her ear.

And while I'm here, well, I'm tempted to leave my room a mess. To drop some chewing gum on her sheets. To leave a ring in her bath tub and scuff marks on her coffee table. I kinda want to break one of her favorite wine glasses. I want to make her drive me to the movies -- and pick me up after.

What would she do if her dad and I decided to jump up and down on her bed with our shoes on? What would she say if we decide to stumble in late on a work night? Or, I could give my friends her phone number and have them call her around midnight and ask to speak to me.

Seriously, though, it’s nice to know that our children really do absorb the lessons we try so hard to teach. It’s a pleasure to see her running her life in a neat and orderly way. It makes me smile to see her all grown up. Responsible.

Besides, soon she will be married and have children of her own, and we have front-row tickets to that show.

We can hardly wait.

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