For example, my husband was a really really REALLY good swimmer for a very long time.
So when our first child didn't exhibit anything that started with "deadly" when near the water, we slapped a speedo on that very cute little diapered bootylicious and crossed our fingers.
Both of my parents are freakishly talented musicians and I always wished I was more like them that way, so naturally when my children so much as bop to a song on the radio, I compulsively start leaving trails of instruments around the house.
It's exciting to see yourself in your kids, to see what weird thing they've taken from you or your spouse while you weren't looking. It's neat when one kid has blue eyes and one kid has green eyes and one kid has hazel eyes. It's fascinating how one kid can be completely literal and unimaginative while one kid can live with his head at cumulus level at all times, but at the same time neither of them are physically capable of estimation, just because that's what you've passed on. It's fun to try and figure out which of the penchants or quirks or ticks your children possess came from nature and which came from nurture. It's the question between what is taught and what is given.
I have no doubt at all that my kids like to take pictures, however, because they've lived most of their lives with a lens in their face.
My parents are just artists. They sing and paint and play and photograph. All of my siblings and I are also artistically inclined. I can't for a second argue the fact that our musical and artistic abilities are just engrained into our DNA, and I also have to acknowledge the fact that my two brothers and me, who essentially did not know each other for most of our lives and still all grew up pre-dispositioned for engineering must be sharing some genetic ability. I also know for a fact that I am never more than 10 feet away from my camera because my parents were never more than 10 feet from theirs and this is a simply a habit that I picked up from them.
And then I passed it down.
While we were in Whistler Village last week, my daughter came up to me and asked me for the camera. So I gave it to her and wept for its untimely demise. Except she didn't break it; quite to the contrary, she kind of rocked it a lot.
My three year old, it turns out, has quite the eye for photography. She took a lot of pictures of her fingers, but then she saw a bird that she HAD to photograph, so she followed it all over the square, trying to get the shot.
Now, those two shots up there were taken on my new Dingleberry, but this one, the money shot, was taken by my three year old. And it's totally unedited.
Do you see the bird? The girl's good, yo.
In fact, she's so good that she managed to take a totally crisp, perfectly centered and absolutely horrifying picture of her mother. You know how y'all are always like, "Dude, do you ever take a bad picture?" Wanna know why? Because I am the one taking the pictures, and I care enough to delete the rancid ones before anyone else can see them. But my kid doesn't.
Because she won't have her art tamed. She won't be censored by the man. And she says you're welcome.