Mini-me times three

Someone I know made the comment that she was becoming more and more like a relative, and wondered why it wasn't simply enough that they looked similar. I kept my comments to myself, which anyone who knows how outspoken I can be will surely appreciate, but I have been pondering that train of thought ever since. My gut reaction was to guffaw, and suggest that she wait until she has kidlets of her own before seeing just how scary genetics can be. Forget about turning into our predecessors. It is the birth of the next generation that can stop us in our tracks when we see ourselves coming back to haunt us.

I was blessed with having three kidlets who are, for better or for worse, stuck with my genes. Each day brings me new reasons to smile about how the apple does not fall far from the tree. Pig and I are similar enough in certain areas that we sometimes dispute whose genes are at fault for a particular comment, attitude, gesture, or expression that we notice in the kidlets, so I will concede that they are as much their father as they are me. I call dibs on the good DNA though.

Horse appears to be the perfect balance of Pig and I, although she was born looking much more like my side of the family. My first coherent thought upon seeing her was, "Oh, my God. I've given birth to my brother!" She reminded me so much of his baby pictures. As she grew older, her genes tried to balance things out and she is much more noticeably from both sides of the family now. She inherited my eyebrows and overbite, but thank goodness she got Pig's ears instead of what I call my "Volkswagen door ears." Her expressions often completely mimic my own, which is odd given that most of her facial features come directly from her father. She devours books, excels at her piano lessons, loves math, and seemingly lives to correct people when they are wrong. I must confess this sounds strikingly like me. She is also far beyond stubborn, prone to random bouts of esoteric commentary, loves to eat anything new put in front of her and can do so without fear of allergic reactions, and has the world's cutest nose and a fairly large noggin, all of which Pig can genetically claim.

Rooster looks the most like my own little mini-me, with the exception of the ears and nose. Pig's ear and nose DNA must be dominant because all three kidlets inherited them. Parts of her must have come from a bizarre combination of recessive genes because neither Pig nor myself have the sheer lungpower that this kidlet possesses. She was even the loudest newborn in the maternity ward. You could hear her blood-curdling screams from all the way down the hall. She best imitates my facial expressions, having replicated my look better than the other two. I must also confess that her sensory issues probably come from me, the only difference being that she seeks sensations and I flee from them. That was just a random toss of the dice, I suppose. Pig sees in her his youthful anger, and I will have to take him at his word, having not met him until he was an adult. Rooster has my tiny head but Pig's wonderfully fine, lighter brown hair.  She definitely has my food allergy issues. She also inherited Pig's fearless ability to jump into any random situation. Sometimes, such as when she broke away from our group and jumped into a pool without being seen, this is a literal jump. I suppose this also means she got my life expectancy, because clearly, times like that take years off my life!

This brings us to my last mini-me, who happens to be the spitting image of his father. Seriously, I do not think he inherited one single, solitary piece of his looks from me with the exception of my thicker hair. However, most of his personality and behavior came directly from me. He has the most noticeable sensory issues in the entire family, and I am constantly amazed at how much they mirror my own. In a way, this gives me an edge in understanding my son. I know when he needs a hug and when he needs to back away. I understand his social awkwardness when people stare in his general direction. I feel for him when he freaks out because someone is standing too close to him. Trust me, I feel the same intense panic when even close friends of mine attempt to stand or walk too closely to me. It is all I can do to not react physically by jumping back or pushing them away, so I certainly understand why he does that to his friends. I do, however, attempt to teach him that getting physical with others is never acceptable. I can empathize when he finds something too sticky or gooey to touch or when he gags because the food placed in front of him is unappetizing to any or all of his senses. Heck, Pig has learned the hard way that I do the same thing. A number of times he tried to cook dinner for me only to discover that I would not touch chicken parts with bones still in them, or that green-colored soup will make me replicate its color. I find it highly amusing that a child so physically unlike me is so very much like me in all other aspects.

Yes, there are days when I look in the mirror and see my parents staring back at me. (How they got into the wall, replaced the mirror with clear glass, and imitated my gestures I will never know!) But what truly gets me is each and every time I see my facial features or expressions being used against me by a kidlet not old enough to see the irony in trying to rebel against someone just like themself. I can smile knowing that when they are old enough to realize they are turning into their parents, they might actually have their own mini-me with whom to experience the joys in life.