Toots is obsessed with Scooby Doo and this morning looked up from her Doo coloring book to tell me she wants to be Daphne next Halloween.

“Great!” I say. That should be easy: mini skirt, boob inserts, bouffant wig. I should find that all in Party City’s “Appropriate for 5-Year-Olds” aisle.

Then Toots tells me that for Halloween, I can dress up like “that guy with the glasses and orange sweater.”

Poor Velma.

She was always my favorite and now I have Scooby Doo proof that Toots has veered from my genetic code.