Familiarity can be oh-so comfortable.
My daughter is, like most other infants I guess, totally hooked on routine. She knows that when I've fed her her dinner, I will take off her bib and take her to the bathroom to brush her teeth (recently upgraded from 'tooth'). After that, she gets to turn off the light in the bathroom and we take her upstairs for a fresh diaper and a change into the pyjamas. Then it's down again for a night cap and then off to bed. Any change in this routine will cause a little hesitation and uncertainty, but a stricht adherence brings out a smile and a giggle.
I have heard that we pick up almost as many things from our kids as they do from us. For example, I swear that my wife's laughter is sounding gradually more like my daughter's giggles. I, too, have fallen victim to this. I have become a horrid little creature of habits. And I didn't used to be this way. Now, I derive real satisfaction from our little routines. To the point where I now get up just moments before the alarm clock goes off in the morning.
Even eating has now gotten some familiar habits. For example, I have come to realize that when we go and buy slices of pizza down in the village, I am a two-slices-man. Not one. And not three. No. Two. And only two. Every now and then, I'll try to break out of these habits. And I get punished every time. Like tonight. I had three slices and my stomach feels like someone heavy is sitting on it. Not good.
Listen to me! Jeez! I can't believe that this is me talking. I am not like this. I don't follow rules. I do not have 'habits'. I sound so boring. What's happening to me? I can't be turning middle-aged. It's too soon!