Psychologists and divorce attorneys know all too well about the “seven-year itch,” the phenomenon through which married people generally get sick of each other after seven years of matrimony.

But an essay this week on The New York Times “Motherlode” blog discusses a different kind of seven-year disillusionment: One with your kids.

The story, written by Alison Patton, is a candid look at the author’s realization (and subsequent disgust with the fact) that her children have picked up some of her worst attributes. Because this epiphany came for her right around the seven-year mark with each kid, she draws the parallel to the proverbial seven-year itch.

It’s an interesting—and bold—line of thinking, and definitely worth a read.

(Full disclosure x2: The Times is a client of mine, and a friend of mine helped Patton with her piece.)

While I could never see myself falling “out of love” with L or subseuquent children, I certainly can understand an ocean of guilt upon realizing one’s previously perfect and naïve little baby (or babies) has (or have) inherited some of the parts of yourself you hate most.

If, for instance, L is even remotely as obsessive-compulsive about stuff as I am, it will be very hard for me to forgive myself. If she flies off the handle as quickly, I, too, may go insane.

Patton’s bottom line, however, is a good one: No matter how “disappointed” some of these developments might make us, no-one is perfect—not us, not our spouses, and definitely not our kids. The sooner each and every one of us comes to terms with that notion, the better (and more forgiving) all of us will be.