When your kid looks nothing like you, people will waste a lot of air telling you that he looks like an exact copy of his father. They will gently reassure you that your kid will look like you eventually, a little bit. But when your kid looks nothing like you and he throws a massive tantrum in the park and you have to drag him away from the playground kicking and screaming, they just assume you’re a kidnapper.
My hair is straight and black-brown. His is curly and blonde. My eyes are black-brown. His are blue. I have olive skin, he is as pink and white as a little girl’s bedroom. He smiles, I don’t smile. My son looks so different than me that some friends have mockingly suggested husband must have cheated on me. The only things we have in common are big feet, eczema, and easily hurt feelings.
Back to the kidnapping. Someone followed me. A concerned mom “discreetly” trailed me as I hauled my little prize fighter clawing and kicking away from the park the other day. The other parents at the playground merely exchanged long, worried glances at each other but this lady just had to be sure. I could be offended, but instead I’m just amused. Perhaps she convinced herself that he was adopted.
If my son ever figures out how to use our lack of shared visage against me I am very concerned that I’ll end up being thrown in jail by mistake.