Oh, Genetics

Since finding out that we are going to have a baby together, my husband and I have spent a fair amount of time talking about what our baby will be like.

Will she be like me? Like him? Quiet? Loud? Curious? Patient? Girly? Tom-boyish? A mix of everything?

And what the heck will she look like? We talk about this a lot. Last weekend, we were talking about genetics and the role they play, and we had a conversation that went something like this:

It started when Andy was crazily scratching his knees due to dry skin (dry skin being one of the many fun skin irritations he has).

Me: “I hope our baby gets my skin.”

Andy: “Me too.”

Me: “And I hope she gets my eyebrows.”

Andy: (laughing) “I hope she gets your nose.”

Me: “Me too!”

And then it hit me.

Me: “Oh my god. Your laugh.”

Andy chuckles (quietly, at least for him.)

Me: “Can you imagine a little girl having your laugh? That would be brutal.”

Andy laughs really, really loudly. (If you know him, you know what I mean.)

A few minutes pass by.

Me: “So really, what are you bringing to the table?”

Andy: (without hesitation) “Personality. I hope to god she gets my patience.”

Me: “Good point.”

The more I think about it, Andy is bringing a lot to the table. The most important trait obviously being his dimple. If our baby gets a dimple like his, she will literally be the cutest thing alive. Let’s just hope it ends up on her cheek where it belongs and not under her eye like my ridiculous misplaced dent.

Oh well, genetics will do as they please. The bastards.


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