You have my eyes

You have my eyes. You have my eyes!

You've always had eyes shaped like mine, but in recent weeks it's become apparent you have the colors of them, too. The strange two-toned eyes that change with the light.

I always loved brown eyes and longed to have deep, dark ones. And I would have been happy for you to have inherited your daddy's eyes.

But you have mine. And it's something I still can't get over:  looking into my own eyes.

(Does that sound narcissistic? Do I even know how to spell that?)