November 14, 2004
I never thought Quinton resembled me very much. He always looked a lot more like his mama than he did me. But I had an amazing experience when I saw him today for the first time in almost six months. I don't know whether he's changing or I just never was away from him long enough to notice before.
My boy looks a LOT like me, especially when I was his age.
He's still got eyes the shape of his mama's, almost oriential, with a curious downturn at the corners; but the irises are Scots-Irish hazel-green, the same as mine. He's damn sure got the famous Smith Chin, which my daughter still curses me for giving her. The Smith Chin is long and pointy, almost like a garden spade.
Personally, I believe that a strong chin is a sign of strong character. I don't trust chinless fuckers. They ain't got no grit. I don't trust a man with an ass wider than his shoulders, either, but I'm getting off-topic here.
Quinton isn't bow-legged the way I am, but he's short-waisted and stocky, just like daddy. He even RUNS with that odd, almost straight-legged gait that I've had all my life. His nose is looking more and more like mine every day, too, which may be more of a curse than a blessing when he grows older. But I think a formidable nose is a sign of strong character, too. Maybe it also means he has a big dick. I hope so.
Basketball tryouts start in two weeks, and Quinton is going out for the 11-to-12 year-old league. He won't be eleven until December 28th, but he wants to play with the older boys. "I'll be eleven before the season's over," he explained. "Besides, I'm better than most of 'em anyway."
I think he also inherited my humility.
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