gesundheit

Anna was carrying Ben to the refrigerator yesterday to refill his juice when he let loose a huge sneeze. It wasn’t the sneeze so much that was noteworthy, but the stylish way that he completed the spasm. Just as he sneezes out the finale, “-choo”, he rolls immediately into a motor-boat sound with his flapping lips spraying drool in all directions. This lasts for several seconds, reminding me of how a big, messy dog would sneeze. Now, Anna and I can’t remember exactly when he started doing this; as far as we can recollect, he’s been doing it since birth. And because we laugh each time he performs the routine, of course he is encouraged to do it the next time ‘round. So now when he sneezes he makes the motor-boat sound, but with his lips curled up into a crooked, knowing smile, and he drags out the process for full comedic effect. But this still isn’t what’s so curious about his style of sneeze.

When I was about 13 years old, I accidentally sneezed just like that, and because of the type of reaction I received, I kept doing it for, oh. . . the next 15 years. It’s funny and it always gets the person next to you smiling in surprise, even if it is, in essence, very disgusting. It’s like farting in front of your guy-friends – very gross, very nasty. . . but very funny. But Ben started sneezing like this before he acquired his powers of imitation, so I have to conclude – very scientifically – that there is a motor-boat sneezing gene that I have passed on to my son. It must be recessive in the generations previous to me, because I can’t recall anyone else in the family sneezing with such declaration. Can you imagine the fantastic surprise when I first heard him sneeze like that? I almost hit the floor! My son, my sneezing prodigy.

Unfortunately, I can’t think of any other of my personality traits that have emerged from our little bean-sprout, which is worth mentioning, because just about all of his positive traits can be traced directly to his mother. He’s shown signs of consideration and empathy, most-definitely traits his mother has passed on to him. He likes vegetables and several fruits that I would never touch, again things inherited from mommy-dearest. He has demonstrated flashes of intelligence, something that couldn’t possibly be attributed to his father. The list goes on.

Me? I pass on to my son a peculiar sneeze.

I guess I’ll just have to make up for my genetic shortcomings by training him in the ancient arts of baseball, football, basketball and, um. . .building construction. And by keeping him as far away from soccer and dancing slippers as possible. . .