My husband has him some really strong Filipino genes and I, well, don’t. Both of my children have black hair, brown eyes and tan like little sun gods, and I, well, don’t. The laws of hereditary science and my feeble recessive genes may have made it so my kids are my genetic opposites in every way.
When Boy Wonder was born, my own dad said, “Well, we know who the father is but who’s the mother?” Hilarious Dad. Truthfully, if I hadn’t pushed him out myself, I may have had my doubts.
When my kids were younger I used to get a lot of double takes into their strollers. Strangers would tell me how cute that child was, instead of how cute my child was. It’s fine, it never really bothered me but when I secretly daydream about the little girl I’ll never have, she looks just like me. I mean seriously, can I get some freckles or blue eyes or something over here? Guess not.
It obviously doesn’t matter; my children and beautiful and amazing and mine.
I’m super proud of my little Benetton family, even if I do look like the babysitter.
Do you have a little mini-me or not so much?
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