Dear Daddy’s Twin,
Today you are officially one month old. For the past thirty one days our friends and family members have been coming and going to see you and all of their visits can be summarized by the following three comments:
“She looks just like Jay!”
“Look at that HAIR!”
Yes, Evelyn, you do indeed look like your daddy, so much so that after they laid you on my chest when you were born, the first coherent sentence I could muster was, “You look just like your daddy,” so much so that one nurse called it scary and weird and amazing all in one sentence, so much so that the nurse combed your amazing mop of hair into the same style as your dad’s and ever since your hair will not stop sticking up. If in the future you want to curse your horrible sticky-uppy hair, curse instead that horrible upward-combing nurse. She simply could not get over how much you looked like your dad and how much hair you had. In fact, all of the nurses you encountered as well as our midwife, doctor, pediatrician, the terrible photographer that took your hospital picture, and lady who took mommy’s hospital food orders commented on how much hair you have. French Toast or Ham and Cheddar Omelet or hair! Your baby has so much HAIR!
Just last week we took you to a family barbecue. I was excited to show you off to the family members who hadn’t already seen you, and for you to meet them so you could show them your newfound ability to smile at anyone who talks to you and therefore melt the hearts of everyone around. You fell asleep in the car, and of course, to my disappointment, you didn’t wake up the entire time we were there. You wake up if you even sense your father and I are ABOUT to sit down with you in our arms, but you can sleep through twenty-five grown men yelling at football players that can’t hear them on a blaring big screen television. At least when we brought you to your godfather’s house the day before you demonstrated your miraculous ability.
So far, this is the consensus on the breakdown of your DNA:
Everything above your mouth: from daddy
Lips and chin: from mommy
Hands and feet: from mommy
So, basically, if you decided to spend your days dressed in a batman mask, you’re look exactly like me, otherwise you’re the female version of your dad. Judging by the way you can work a room, even in your sleep I think you got your social magnetism from your dad too. Everyone who meets you is attracted to you instantly, how could they not be?
Remember, you father and I love you more than you could ever know, from the tips of your wild hair to the toes on your dainty little feet.
Love,
Mommy
