Punnett Square Magic

This morning I found the little boy that I have seen so many mornings in my husband when he first lets out a stretch and tries so hard to wake himself up. He was the 19-month-old in our bed. The boy who so enthusiastically calls Pete, "Daddy!" Exclamation point nearly every time. This morning Little Pete woke himself up with that same stretch and adorable look on his face. It is such a little boy look, I never understood how my husband had it before. Now I know. He must have had it since he was about 19-months-old. He must have acquired it from his dad - the man my little boy calls Gappa.

When Little Pete first arrived, most people wanted to know who he looked like, who he took after. Until recently, we didn't know exactly. We still can't say who he looks like. The thing is, Peter and I look alike. So, Little Peter has both of our features equally. When Peter and I were in college, and we would walk around holding hands, strangers used to ask whether we were dating or brother and sister. Creepy. I don't have a brother, but I am pretty sure if I did, I would not walk around holding his hand at the age of 21.

While Peter shares both of our facial features, he definitely has other characteristics that follow straight down genetic lines. For instance, my chin has a tendency to jut out when I am angry or stressed. I have no idea how this happens. I don't even know it is happening until I see Peter jutting his chin out in exaggerated fashion to clue me in. This only causes it to slide forward even more. The other day Little Peter was having a hard time making connection between his plastic golf club and a plastic ball. He was visibly frustrated. His chin was sticking out.

Also, when Little Peter finds something he loves, he repeats: "Again? Again?" What can I say, I have an addictive personality. This is why it is better for me just to stay away from certain things - like oreos. I understand that eating one leads eating the entire package. Little Pete's addictive personality currently manifests itself in consuming massive amounts of smoothies. He can't get enough of those things. Peter has decided smoothies are bad for him. I mean, I make them with yogurt, fruit and a splash of OJ, but if he loves them so, they must be bad!

Another trait inherited from me reveals itself in the phrase "I want some." Anytime anyone is eating anything, Little Peter says, "I want some." Growing up, my sisters had a Saturday morning game they liked to play. They would make trip after trip into the kitchen during cartoon commercials to retrieve different snacks, placing bets on how long it would take me to get up and retrieve the exact same thing. What they had always looked better than what I had - even if they just had it.

From Peter, our little boy has acquired a fabulous sense of humor. They both are very funny. His twinkling eyes. His ability to crash and shake it off. And try again. And a deep interest in rocks. All kinds of rocks. They collect them. Peter showcases his in displays at school. Little Peter carries his in pockets to set free later, like bugs.

Other personality traits are not yet determined, but there are some traits that I so hope he will inherit from Pete, that I throw my designated coffee money into wishing fountains. (I still buy the coffee - bank cards are a good thing). First, there is patience. I don't possess that trait. Peter definitely does. He is a junior high school teacher. Last night I watched Memoirs of a Geisha. Talk about patience. Two people in love waited a half a life time to spend the second half of their lives together. And for what? Well, because there was another person in the picture, of course, yet later they decided their love was greater than to let that keep them apart after all! I would have never made it. That guy would have bought me that cherry icy when I was a child and after the luck of finding him again as an adult, if he did not declare his love to me that instant, I would have been gone. Peter and I broke up for a year before we got married. He let me figure things out and he waited for me. I am glad it was not the other way around. I would not have made it. I would have been gone before Peter realized what a terrible mistake he made. I would have waited for about a week, threw a fit that he did not understand how much he loved me, and joined the peace corp or something. While I know patience is a virtue, I have come to grips with the fact that it was not a virtue passed on to me. Hopefully patience is a dominant personality gene. I am sure Little Pete has it. He is just waiting for the perfect time to use it.

I also throw a few dimes into the fountain wishing that Little Pete will have Peter's hair. He has the perfect curls. When he had long hair, I would ask him nicely to put it back in a pony tail when he was with me, because his flowing locks showed up my straight-hanging hair.

Of course, I hope Little Peter grows to Peter's height. At least close. Peter is 6'6". Girls like tall boys. Tall boys are automatically deemed good at basketball. Peter still gets asked by people in public if he plays. He says yes. The question is vague. With a tall husband, there is no need for step stools. With a tall man by your side, you can wear heels as high as you want. My mother was destined to a life of flats. My father has short legs. She has long legs. The last time we were at my parent's house, my nephew performed some crazy science magic with the use of a Punnett Square. He spent a lot of time making boxes and when he finally looked up he declared that Little Peter would grow to 6'2". Good enough.

But the most highly anticipated trait - the toes. I throw quarters into the fountains hoping that Little Peter will have my toes. It's not that my toes are so great, it's just that Peter's are so bad (Sorry Peter, I wish your mother would not have deprived you of shoes that fit). Little Peter has more shoes than a 19-month old needs. It is either provide lots of toe room or figure out how to crack the code to those Punnett Square things.