When I was pregnant, Mike and I would spend hours in bed, staring at the ceiling and chatting about what we thought "Ziggy" would look like. Would he be blessed with Mike's beautiful darker complexion or be cursed with my pale white skin that burns with a ray of sunshine? Would we look into his crystal blue eyes, or would they be big and brown like his daddy's? Any chance he could be the next Patriot's linebacker, or take after his uncle and be incredibly savvy in the technology world?
Well, when he was born, it was apparent that Jackson Robert Wells was a clone of his daddy. As my aunt in Florida commented "that Jackson, he looks like Michael just spit him right outta his mouth." And it is true. Looking at him now, he is a little version of Mike. Sometimes it's creepy how similar their features are. Most everyone who sees us together says "Jackson looks just like his dad!" Someone once told me that God made it happen that way, because it's a way for men to bond quicker with their child, as the woman has the luxury of 9 months to bond and prepare.
Here's the one thing that Jackson inherited from his mother. He has the klutz gene. At least twice a day, he stumbles into furniture, falls flat on the floor, and bumps up to objects, moving and stable. He always lands in the same place - on his right forehead. Accident form after accident form at daycare, it's the same story: a bump on his head. When I was a child, the emergency room knew me by first name as a frequent visitor. Between a broken arm, sprained ankles, dislocated knees and shoulders and countless stitches and bug bites, I was a train wreck. And it looks like my boy is following suit.
The one thing I leanred today: Jackson does have a little part of me - though not the best attribute to have inherited. Hopefully, the klutziness is something he'll grow out of, but if not, it can be endeearing to an extent . . . just not the best trait to have as a athlete I suppose. In the meantime, I'll keep lots of ice and TLC ready for the bumps and bruises along the way.
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