Brain. Work with me, here.

Something alarming has been going on since Christmas. While I was visiting my parents' home, I was exposed to a picture of my little brother from his kindergarten days that was on display in the kitchen.That picture has invaded my brain and won't surrender.

The main problem is that Matthew has the same color hair that my 2-year-old son Jonah has. It's a beautiful color -- a pale blonde, like the silk from an ear of corn. But now when I try to picture Jonah, the hair first pops into my head, and instead of proceeding to my toddler's face, the circuitry in my brain now supplies my little brother's face. IT'S NOT THE SAME FACE.

This makes me uneasy. I feel like a mom should always have her child's face at her mind's fingertips. But there are some things that are just broken in my brain.

For example, I will never remember what "erudite" means. "Botulism" will always just translate to "scary and creepy disease" and nothing more, no matter how many times my friend Shannon explains it to me. People named Heather will half the time be called Rachel, and Mikes will often be thought of as Chris. I will always assume people know I'm including shrimp and clams when I tell them I don't like fish.

Oh well. If I'm going to forget my son's face, there are worse faces I could be substituting.