The Gene Pool

Dear @#%^! Baby,

A day shy of 35 weeks and you’ve already been showing off your inherited traits. That’s impressive, since I can’t #%!^ing see you. You are most definitely our spawn.

How you take after your father:

THE LUCK. Big A has ridiculously good luck. Irritatingly good luck, I may add, since I have terrible luck. Since you have been leeching off of me, you’ve shared the good fortune of the Big A luck gene with me. Proof? I won $500 at Bingo, after a little trade-in drama I ended up with my dream car and the house has yet to implode. OK, so I’ve had minor issues with the household – a $100 emergency vet visit for basically a dog wart, the water dispenser in the fridge not working and last nights basement window waterfall – but that is NOTHING compared to what I dealt with on past deployments. And we’re on the home stretch…so fingers crossed. I credit your lucky streak in (hopefully) breaking the curse.

CEREAL. Holy crap, the cereal. Big A will go through at least two boxes a week. In general, I have maybe a bowl a month from the stash. I have had more cereal in the past three months than I have in the past three years. I cannot get enough. Not to mention they are Big A-sized bowls (i.e. obnoxiously huge) and usually followed by a second helping. I’m buying Costco sized boxes and inhaling them. THEY WERE ON SALE.

RAP MUSIC. Granted, Big A and I both listen to it, but pre-Big A I leaned more toward Portishead and Tool and *gasp* N’Sync. So, I say this is a Big A gene. And you seem to love the angry bass on the car rides. I can’t wait until I can teach you the lyrics to “Regulators”.

How you take after me:

CHEESECAKE: I learned this weekend that you love this stuff. One bite would send you into tummy turmoil. I thought you were going to shove a hand out, grab the fork and just start chowing down yourself.

AVENGED SEVENFOLD: Also a Big A and I shared love, but I want the credit for this one. A7X in the car and you’ve started your own uterine Headbanger’s Ball. NICE.

CURLY HAIR: I’m just assuming from the wicked heartburn that you’ll have a ton of hair, since that is one wives tale that is actually (supposedly) true. Something about enzymes or whatnot, I don’t know, that’s science. I wasn’t good at science. But I’ve had a shitton of heartburn and my hair doesn’t curl like it used to so I’m calling this one early.

You’ve certainly inherited the night owl gene from both of us, though Big A has learned to suppress that in recent years. But your mom and dad used to hang out all night at Steak and Shake and you seem to enjoy your little dance parties at midnight.  That’s one trait I wish you hadn’t picked up from us. I hope you like napping like we do.

Oh, lord, please, like napping.

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