Claiming resemblance

One of the very first things I said after Isaac was born was, "He looks just like Craig!"


It seems silly now. Less than ten seconds out of the womb, Isaac's most prominent features were his bright red skin and flattened forehead, but somehow I saw an overwhelming resemblance to Craig. Their chins, their ears, and I even remember looking at Izzy's tiny hands, wrinkled and waxy, and thinking they were uncannily similar to Craig's.

As Isaac grows into a little boy I still see their resemblance, but it feels less drastic. It may be that I see Isaac as his own person now, so first and foremost he looks like himself. It may be that Isaac looked more like the adult Craig when he was still an infant, because he was a classic example of that somewhat creepy phenomenon where a brand-new baby looks like an old man. Or it may be that some of my genes are asserting themselves after all!

No, I don't think it's that last one. Yes, perhaps I'm a little disappointed that Isaac doesn't look like me. As his features materialize it becomes even more clear that he doesn't: as just one example, as it grows his nose is tilting downward at the tip like Craig's, while my family has slightly upturned noses. But he seems to have gotten at least one thing from my side of the family: his coloring. Isaac, like most of my family, has blue eyes, blonde hair, and fair skin. Understandably, some of my family members cling to this as they try to stake their unsuccessful claims to resemblance:

• My blonde blue-eyed father, looking at tow-headed Isaac, asked his mother about his own hair color as a baby. She knew immediately what he was suggesting and said, "Oh, no, none of you boys had hair that light." (He didn't quite believe her.)

• My (formerly) blonde blue-eyed brother, introducing Izzy to a friend of his for the first time, asked, "Doesn't he look like me?" The friend looked at the two of them for only a fraction of a second before responding, "Not really." (He was disappointed.)

• My blonde blue-eyed sister -- well, I don't know. Erica, do you point to all those photos of Isaac on your cubicle wall and ask your co-workers if he looks like you? (Go ahead and leave a comment!)
  

• My brunette green-eyed mother doesn't try to claim resemblance, however. She's used to it; none of her three children look like her at all. (At least I can share my disappointment with her.)

And me? Don't get me wrong; I am genuinely pleased that Isaac resembles his father. But there is something about a having a child that creates a desire for this biological connection, the physical resemblance. Is it vanity? Is it Darwin? Is it pursuit of a genetic legacy?