I don't know if guilt is hereditary, but Miss M seems to be channeling the previous generations of Mormon and Catholic repentance. The last thing she does before falling asleep at night, after the two books and one story and two songs, after the lights go off and her mother growls "Lie down, be still, close your eyes" for the 48th time, she confesses something. She goes through her mental summary of the day and finds something that she needs to apologize for. Last night, it was a fairly recent one: "Mama, I'm sorry for knocking over all the books" (which she'd done by kicking them off her nightstand about ten minutes earlier). The night before last, she went further back into the day and recalled an unfortunate potty-related incident that I never held her accountable for in the first place: "Mama, I'm sorry I fell in the toilet." Then she asks the most important question in her world: "Are you my best friend?" Mama stops growling after that.