I spent the afternoon regaling Kory with exciting tales of pregnancy, giving birth, and child-rearing (I'm an FDA-approved birth control method-- totally sanitary *and* reusable!), but now I feel I need to make it up to the tykes by saying something nice. So, let's think...
We got Punkin Baby's hair cut last week, so he no longer looks like the lost blonde Beatle. He's back to his normal red-haired self; don't ask me how he does that. Turns out that under that moptop, he looks just like his oldest brother did at age 2. Wow. Even Pirate Boy got confused when looking at a picture of #1 Son. ("That's Punkin Baby!" Nope, it's not.)
That brings me to a couple of weird points. First, we don't have any pictures of #1 Son from before I met his dad. Reason? Mommy from Hell took the ones she wanted with her and cut the rest to pieces. So when the boy asks what he looked like back then, I can't tell him, because I don't know. And when he asks why we don't have any pictures of him, I can tell him the truth, but it's so weird that he doesn't believe it. And then "Mommy" shows him her pictures and he thinks she's such a doting parent... OK, enough on that topic.
The other thing was the weird genetics going on in our kids. I love to fiddle around with heredity grids... But just try to draw this grid, Fr. Mendel: Husband has blonde (verging on brown now) hair and hazel eyes. "Mommy" (aka "The Evil One") has dark hair and dark eyes. So #1 Son is a blue-eyed platinum blonde. Right. Then there's me with the mousy grey-brown hair and blue eyes. I represent the recessive genes in my family, but Pirate Boy somehow got the dominant genes: shiny brown hair, olive skin, and tawny brown eyes. Oh yes, and Mongol eyeflaps; don't ask me where they came from, but my sister has them too. I think he's a gorgeous child. Then we get to Punkin Baby, who was born with flaming red hair (which has only faded a bit), gunmetal grey eyes (now with a green-brown corona), and a set of cheeks and chin I couldn't identify until I was watching "Blue's Clues" one day. Aha! Those pieces of my baby's face come from the Patton side of the family, none of whom I've seen for years, but they all have that same face Donovan has.
So now on our bedroom wall hangs a beautiful picture of our three sons-- one blonde, one brunette, and one redhead--as superficially different as can be, but they love each other to death. And that's the most important thing. No matter what their chromosomes say, these boys are brothers where it counts. In the heart.