136: Progeny

Christian: Nearly five months old now, nearly half a year. Everything is nearly when it comes to people of this size. He smiles now, incessantly, pleased at everything save the camera in his face, and even then, he is tolerant. (He knows his aunt will be an obnoxious presence in his life in that way.) I've become a bit more adept at changing diapers, a bit more adaptive to projectile vomit. His fist is his favorite chew toy at this point, and he drools like a champ, which seems to be a strong indication that teething is on its way. We are able to identify his parents every day: the almond shape of his father's eyes, the dimpled chin from his mama. And that dopey mouth hanging open? I'm sure we know who that belongs to.

I begin to wonder what Ryan and my progeny might look like, and even more, what traits he or she will receive: Ryan's bold childhood behavior (help, help, I'm stuck on the ceiling!) or my addiction to books, Ryan's blonde hair and blue eyes (or my blonde-ish hair and blue eyes), height and width (oh please, if we have a daughter, let her not have my calves), science or languages, the narrow or rounded face, dedication or procrastination. What ways these offspring will combine, will smear the DNA and become something of his or her own.

What hopes I have now: that our children will know love as we know love, that we will be able to support each in whatever passions they may have. That Ryan and I will always be able to provide that safe environment (and model of good, lifelong love).