In our future, we may have cars that drive themselves, streets that harvest solar power, and voice recognition technology that doesn’t result in us screaming at an inanimate object because it won’t “call Sarah’s cell,” but we will probably never get true designer babies.
And that is a darn shame.
See, I was stupid and married for love; I should have married for genetic superiority. Because of that mistake, the traits I wanted my baby to have and the traits he ended up with aren’t even close.
Traits I Wish My Baby Had
1. The ability to sleep in.
When I was three weeks old, I started sleeping through the night. When I was a teenager, I could easily sleep until noon. As an adult I would happily hit the snooze until 8:30 AM — if I ever had the opportunity.
Unfortunately, my son runs off the Anna way of thinking, “The sky’s awake, so I’m awake!”
2. The world’s largest bladder.
I am the perfect car trip buddy — holding it for eight hours is a breeze. My son, on the other hand, pees every 10 minutes or so.
3. Long legs.
When I married for love, I married a man a few inches shorter than me and hoped like crazy our kids would just get my height. No dice. My first attempt at offspring has yielded a specimen who wears pants made for 9-month-olds while rocking a 2T shirt. Onesie pajamas look ridiculous on this kid.
4. A love of sitting and reading.
My mother raised nerds. While we have been known to participate in sports that require zero hand-eye coordination, we love to sit alone in nooks with naught but books. I had high hopes for my son following this path for the first week or so, but then he woke up.
Traits He Ended Up Inheriting
1. Hearing your warning, but doing whatever he wants to anyway.
I really have nobody to blame but myself for this one. It wasn’t until my son started following my example that I realized it doesn’t make you “strong” or “independent” to go your own way regardless of warnings; it makes you kind of dumb and liable to get hurt over and over.
2. My dance moves.
If you turn on a song, whistle a tune, or even stomp the ground rhythmically, my son will start to bop his head. If the song gets louder and more exciting, his arms will start to flail about. And if he’s really really into it, he’ll bend over and start smacking the ground. I really wish he had gotten his dad’s moves, but at least everyone will notice him at parties …
3. My love of heights.
Maybe I’m to blame for taking him hiking so much this summer, but my munchkin loves climbing things. He has successfully gotten on top of the kitchen counter, the dining table, the desk, and pretty much everything else in the house. Which wouldn’t be so bad if he had an ounce of self-preservation, but alas, he loves living on the edge. Or, more accurately, falling off the edge.
4. A black hole stomach.
About a week ago I was feeling lazy and cooked a frozen pizza for lunch. My 1-year-old and I ate the entire thing in one sitting — he probably took down a third of it. It was then that I realized his insatiable hunger does not come from his father.
Even though my son is obviously deeply flawed, I think I’ll keep him around. I mean, nurture may yet win out over nature on some of these traits (and by that I mean he starts his “ballroom dance for toddlers” class tomorrow).