Day 184: Omens and Portents

I was in Penn Station on Friday, waiting for a train back to Boston. In the waiting area was a mother and her son. The kid must have been three or four, and he was a total, utter wild man. He was running and jumping, complete abandon. Moments of uncontrolled spaz-out, giving way to full-tilt tearing around between peoples' suitcases and rows of chairs.

His mother was very patient through all of this. Trying to keep him safe, trying to keep him out of the way of other passengers, but also clearly happy to allow him to bleed off some excess energy before their trip.

I was a very energetic kid, myself. I can very easily see us getting a boy like that. Mary says I'm too quick to assume that we'll be getting a carbon copy of myself, says that not all of my personality traits, good or bad, may be handed-down.

She's right. We might not be in for the karmic backlash I've expected these many years, but if we are, I hope we can be as patient and understanding as that mother at Penn Station, and just let him freak out. My parents would have been horrified to let me go nuts like that. They were willing to tolerate energy up to a point—they were extraordinarily patient—but they were always uncomfortable when I was really being myself!

I've been thinking a lot lately about genetics and have formulated a not-very-inventive hypothesis: that being genetically matched to your offspring makes one a more apt parent; you're more likely to understand your child from his/her own point of view if you share his/her characteristics. My parents raised two adopted children (I was one of them) and one "natural", and I think we'd all three agree that my younger sister (not adopted) was better situated for my parents' brand of child-rearing. That's not to take away from them because they were fantastic, amazing parents. But my older sister and I definitely stumped them from time to time!

So go ahead, young man, whatever your name ends up being. If you turn out like me, I promise to be understanding when you feel it necessary to flail uncontrollably around Penn Station. And if you're not exactly the way I was, then I promise to try hard to understand you, and that will likely be a much bigger challenge.