Here's everything that Cristian inherited from me.
The first thing that Cristian got from his dad was the capability to eat endlessly. I proudly own that. When Isabel is exasperated that he’s eaten for four hours straight and we’re all exhausted but he wants more, she accuses him of being my son. And I say, “Yes, ma’am, he is!” as I open the fridge for the fiftieth time that day.
The next talent Cristian inherited from me is his ability blow out of his diaper. Onsies and sheets wet and brown, sick and sad. We conclude that he got that from me because when his mother was an infant her poop was shaped like dainty rose petals and smelled like lime and mint.
His astounding flair for shrieking during the few precious hours God gave me to sleep also came from me and only me. It is important that I understand that because while Isabel is on maternity leave, I’m the one really suffering so I had better not blame this on her. I am told that Isabel cooed when she was hungry, squeaked happily when she was tired, and by the time she was six months old asked her mom, “Can I help out around the house?”
He got his blue eyes from me. Not that my eyes are blue, but I’m white, and that’s what our eyes do. So he’s got curly black hair and dark blue eyes. We’re very interested to see what color they end up being.
And hiccups. Which sucks because I hate hiccups.
Most importantly, Cristian need to squirm around and flex into positions that are nearly impossible to hold, that’s from me, too. My parents don’t have any stories to corroborate this claim, but it must be because when my wife was a baby, she would shift her body’s stiffness to match whoever was holding her. She was so easy to hold that sometimes her mother would say, “Oh, I forgot you were even there.” To that, baby Isabel would coo and smile warmly.
Actually, he’s sitting on my lap as I type this, staring at my Lego elephant. Good times will follow.
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