Good genes

Every time my son smiles at me, I thank God for his father's genes. Because while everyone in my family has needed braces, Daniel and his father have beautiful, straight, strong teeth.
And it doesn't stop with the teeth. If I set a foot out in my back yard, even with a solid coating of Deep Woods Off!, I return to the house with no fewer than six mosquito bites. Daniel and his dad, however, can spend all day and half the evening outside without so much as a nip.
I usually get one or two colds a year, and they hang on and on. Daniel (and his dad) can sleep in the same room with me while I'm at my sickest and never get a single cough. And since Daniel has been in day care and preschool, I've been exceedingly grateful for that little blessing!
However, like father, like son does have one drawback: Chris' childhood emergency room file was two folders thick. He's broken more bones and bears more scars than you can shake a stick at. And Daniel is headed in the same direction. He always looks like he's been rolled downhill in a barrel: all bruises and scratches. My pediatrician calls them "signs of activity." I call them "all boy."
--Misty