You never get too far away from your gene pool. Some people inherit bad health from their parents. Others get great athletic ability or creativity from their ancestors. 

Me? Well, one thing I got was my dad’s ability to spill food on all his clothes.

My wife, Lily, has been telling me our entire marriage that I should bring my plate closer to me, shortening the gap between my food and my mouth, creating less of a chance that my fork full of food will hit my lap on the way to my pie hole.

I try but I think it’s in my genes. My dad was a master.

There was a time when my family was out for dinner with Dad and he was having a baked potato with his meal. Dad liked to put lots of butter on his spuds, so he began loading up. 

I’m not sure if it was the dim lighting of the restaurant or that the potato appeared to be soaking up the butter, but dad ended up with a pool of butter on his plate with his sleeve acting like a “Bounty-quicker-picker-upper” paper towel. 

The butter was dripping from his arm and pooling on the table.

On another occasion, when having some pizza in the park with my brother’s family and mine, Dad decided that marinara sauce was a great dip for the pizza. 

He had marinara on everything. In fact, 25 years later, our families can’t say the word “marinara” without thinking of Dad and getting a big grin on our faces.

But maybe the best time was a stop at an ice cream stand on a Sunday afternoon. Dad loved a good black cherry cone and that’s what he ordered. 

It didn’t help that the day was very hot and humid and that he had his light blue seersucker suit on. But that ice cream cone was melting faster than he could lick the drips that were cascading down the cone. 

When he was done, Dad had ice cream on his tie, his shirt right at his belly, his pants and even a dollop on his white loafers. It was a perfect four-point landing for the ice cream. It might even be a record.

When I say he was a master with the spills, I’m not exaggerating. 

And somehow I got some of his genes. 

This morning I made my breakfast on the stove: egg whites in a pan with ham, cheese and Frank’s red hot sauce, folded over into something that looks like an enchilada.

It was a beautiful, sunny morning so I decided to eat it out on the deck with my half a grapefruit.

I was leaning over the foot rest where I’d set my plate. It was lower than the chair so I wanted to be careful. 

Then for some reason I thought that, if I picked up my plate and brought it closer to my mouth, it would be better.

It was a very short distance, but there was a gap and as I raised the fork to my mouth, some of the hot sauce flung itself out at me, landing several drips onto my shorts – light grey coloured shorts to be exact. 

I’ll be changing my outfit for the day. 

That darn gene pool.

Here’s the thing: As much as we like to think we are different from our forefathers, we are so much like them. The same propensity to sin that Adam and Eve had, we have inherited honestly. So the most reasonable thing to do is to seek God and His forgiveness through Jesus Christ. 

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: In what ways have you found yourself to be just like your parents? Leave your comments and questions below.

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