When Jack was first born, he looked nothing like me at all. He was a tiny, miniature Steve, and frankly, I did not appreciate it one bit. I don't recall Steve retching for several months, having pain in his siatic nerve, or developing giant purple stripes on his butt. Nor do I recall him experiencing several days of labor pains or having this child sliced out of his body. But whatever; I happen to think Steve is a pretty good looking guy, so having two of them around is not such a bad thing.
But as Jack's gotten older, he is starting to look more like a mix between us. His eyes are blue like Steve's, but the shape is the same as mine. He also has my nose, and sometimes when I look at him the right way, he reminds me of my brother, who of course resembles me.
But even more importantly, there are things he does that make it very clear that he's not just a Mini Steve, but that he's got lots of his mom in him. There is his tendency to sweat like a male member of the Green family (sorry about that Jack, but at least you escaped the eyebrows). His love for all things created by Jim Henson (Sesame Street, Muppets, Fraggles, etc) is definitely from his mommy.
But even better, he has recently developed a habit -- no, a skill -- that is all me. And that is... making his stuffed animals talk. When I was a kid, each and every one of my stuffed animals had a name (and not some punk name like "Teddy" or "Kitty") and its own distinct voice. Jack is moving in the same direction. Frog Rattle has a deep grown. Big Bird (pronounced "Bi-dah") moves his beak to say hi to Jack. And Roary has more to say than any of the others. Sometimes Roary just nods his approval, but now he also talks, in a voice even higher than Jack's. This morning, Roary was apparently very interested in the story we were reading, pointing to pictures on the page and saying, "That's a cow" and "Baby Deer."
This is definitely my kid