Schmeejay’s Squab

I’m not much for toddlers.  I refuse to teach pre-kindie classes.  I have no idea how to not make them cry, and I don’t much care for singing unless it’s Tom Waits or Leonard Cohen.  Not quite your “Head and shoulders, knees and toes…”
Still, though…I accidentally ran into DeeJaySteve ( like the French teething cracker  – Digestive – yeah?).  He was pramming about with his sun-hatted curly haired squab daughter.
So.  Apparently genetics is not the controlling factor its made out to be…unless Mom has a ton of dominant alleles.  The kid is tres adorable – too damn cute for words.  Too soon to tell if she’s funky, a trait she’d be well served inheriting from her Pa.   But as toddlers go, this one is like some sort of Hallmark card.
Not nearly enough to make me want one of my own, but far more hopeful than most of the snot-nosed little shorts-shitters that generally come down the pipe.

Christ.  My compliments are fading.

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