Recently my daughter and I got into a discussion about how she was made up of parts of both my husband and me. I believe this was inspired by an earlier reading of The Baby Tree by Sophie Blackall. Anyway, I said that if Daddy and I had married different people we might have had children, but they wouldn't have been her. As an example, I said that if I had had a daughter with someone else, she wouldn't have had Daddy's chin. But as my daughter doesn't have any obvious physical inheritances from me, I added this:
My daughter's response: "That would be TRAGIC."
Indeed. My daughter's love of books is as defining for her, at this point, as having her Daddy's chin. And the idea of anyone (or at least anyone related to her) not loving books is simply tragic.
Some days, I do feel like I am doing something right as a parent.