The Gene Pool
Mother Nature is fickle. She's a prankster. She's sitting on a rock in a meadow somewhere eating toast with margarine on it laughing her fool head off.
When a young couple's frolicking takes the turn to parenthood Mother Nature rears her ugly head and dips her ladle into the gene pool. Mom's eyes. Dad's nose. Grandpa's ears. Then, poof, voila, Junior.
The thing is, this little wade into the gene pool is often more like a swim in shark-infested waters.
I look at my family. I am the spitting image of my father. Sister #1, my mother. Sister #2 a true combination of both.
I would like to take a moment now to thank my father and his family for their tendency toward the pear shape.
I see it in Chuck's family though not it is as clearly defined. It is said that he resembles his maternal grandfather. I have to believe him.
Then we look at my daughter. Next to the phrase Payback is Hell in the dictionary is my daughter's picture.
She has my hair color and her dad's curls. (Good.) His nose and my mouth. (Excellent.) His temper and tendency to wake up in a bad mood. (Very very bad.) My pout and sassiness. (Cute but also very very bad.) His absolute loathing of going to bed. (Arg.)
If there was ever any doubt as to the paternity of my daughter (which there wasn't), approximately two minutes after she was born that was laid to rest. She had this expression on her face that is pure Chuck. I've seen him do the exact same thing--sort of a grimace where his forehead gets all wrinkled up--a million times.
This baby was two minutes old. What on earth did she have to be pissed off about?
Until next time. . .