My youngest, through the genetic wheel-of-fortune, is a blonde haired green-eyed boy.
As chance would have it, his school is full of predominately dark haired, beautifully brown-eyed students.
SO. He has become the go-to example in his biology class.
He said, “Mom, anytime she (his teacher) needs to point to an example of recessive genes, it’s ME: ‘Blonde, green eyed- oh heck! Just look at William.’”
Now biology is a mixed bag. He has also inherited his dad’s stature, which turns out to be a GOOD thing as he is the tallest on the Junior Varsity football squad.
But genes are a fickle thing, especially when it comes to timing.
“We played this team… I think it was Oyster Bay, or something,” he said.
They were, it seems, giants.
He told me, “I said, WHAT stage of puberty ARE YOU IN?!”
They had apparently all hit their growth spurts early, or were – as he insisted – “all seniors!”
“C’mon… it couldn’t have been that bad. “
“MOM. There was this guy who put his hand on my forehead and managed to tackle one of my teammates with the other!”
And so it is, we are all a beautiful mix. Different hair, different eyes, different abilities, different in every amazing, beautiful way. But I must say, I’m happy the “humor” gene appears to be strong in my family.
This has been an actual conversation in the Man Cave. What’s the Man Cave? Read this.