Baby Biology

I admit it. I'm a total slacker.

Nothing has changed from my high school days. . . Still needing some sense of pressure or potential failure to turn in an assignment, even a blog post. Seems I can't conjure up anything until late at night, and rather aimlessly when I do. Not a trait I hope to pass on to my dog, let alone my daughter.

If looks are any hint at whose genes might prevail, then Quinn will do just fine as has her Dad. . . Well I should qualify that: as long as she doesn't get a VW Bus and stays clear of Grateful Dead music.

Then there is the savior of all sciences -- epigenetics. It's the notion that we might turn off whatever DNA isn't en vogue, or we wished hadn't been transcribed from our chromosomes to hers. Love how tidy biology can be!

So far, Quinn seems to have Jack's furrowed brow and (to my eye, his impeccably good) looks, her Grandma Nguyet's chuckles and chortles as punctuations on a conversation (even for dialogue without words), and a little something I inherited from my Mom --a tendency to giggle in her sleep.

With copious amounts of other DNA roaming Quinn's bloodstream and bones, I can only hope that she won the lottery of lineage luck.

Maybe she will inherit her Grandpa Jim's quick wit and comprehension of tomes of information, her Uncle Paul's serenity and modesty, her aunt Stephanie's ability to be methodical and meticulous, her Grandpa Hans' mastery of good design. . .

But she could just as easily wind up getting the less flattering traits coursing through our families' histories: The failure to ever be on time, a weakness for books, a tendency to hoard things that could never be categorized as treasures, some seriously strange feet, a temperamental sense of smell, a near paranoia about the perception of others, and hairy knuckles (oops, looks like she might have already expressed that last little gene!).

While I may not save her head from looking like a paperweight, there is still time to potentially head off some of these untoward genes.

So, with my arms full of Quinn for much of the day, I'm hoping there is some truth that by just having her near me, some of the unforeseen and unwanted genes will stay forever muted.

And if all else fails, if I can at least keep Quinn from working on any kind other than a fire pole, I will have done fine. And if she never even knows what any other kind of pole would be, then I will have really succeeded.

May we all express only the best of our genes!
The Former Firepole Mama & Unknown Quotient Quinn