If there is truth to this wives tale, then I may be partly to blame for the color of Wyatt’s hair.
The most logical explanation is genetics, though. Both Zac and I have redheads in our family.
Somehow Zac’s beard always grows in red, but the hair on his head looks blond like mine. Go figure.
I decided early on that I would be fine with bearing a redheaded baby. I figured it would be something else to set Wyatt apart from every other Tom, Dick and Harry.
Sure enough, the few strands of hair that my son brought into this world were strawberry blond with a heavy emphasis on the strawberry.
There was a short period of time when some relatives tried to convince themselves and me that Wyatt’s hair was getting lighter, but their wishing never made it so. Its shade can now best be described as fire engine red.
Wyatt’s carrot top is one of the first things people notice about him.
The most frequently asked question by strangers is “Where did he get that hair?” instead of “What’s his name?”
Wyatt also has a head full of curls, a megawatt smile and big, baby blue eyes.
I know the girls in kindergarten aren’t going to be able to resist him because grown women are already crazy about him. He keeps quite a few ladies entertained during our preacher’s sermon each Sunday.
When my mother took Wyatt out the other day, someone told her that he was pretty enough to be a girl.
Women aren’t Wyatt’s only fans. A nice older man chased us down in Wal-mart once just so he could meet him.
Wyatt loves the attention that his red hair brings him. In fact, it has made him a little vain.
One of his favorite games to play in the bathroom is “kiss the cute baby in the mirror.”
I was worried that he might be uncooperative when we took him for his first professional photo shoot a few days before his first birthday. Instead, I watched in amazement as he spent a good 15 minutes flirting with the photographer and making googoo eyes at the camera.
Wyatt also enjoys watching people’s reactions to him when we are out in public.
If someone lingers nears us a little too long without looking at him, he stares at the distracted soul with an expression that seems to say, “Hello! Adorable alert!”
Inevitably the person will smile in his direction. Wyatt usually acknowledges the gesture with a smug grin that can only mean “Yeah, I thought so.”
Although Wyatt is friendly to everyone, I have noticed that he feels a special bond with other redheads.
Sometimes he giggles and points at my collection of Lucille Ball pictures in the living room. His heart is going to be broken when he finds out that she was actually a brunette.
Kids can be cruel, so Wyatt will likely endure some teasing because of his red hair one day. I wouldn’t advise a bully to mess with him, though. Wyatt has already shown signs of having the mythical redheaded temper.
I learned recently that discrimination against redheads, also known as “gingers,” is a real problem in other parts of the world.
This summer, a Domino’s employee referred to an 11-year-old as the “ginger kid” on a receipt but used the full names of his two friends who placed orders at the same time.
Other disturbing instances include the establishment of a “Kick a Ginger” group on Facebook in 2008 and a British supermarket chain selling a Christmas card in 2009 that read, “Santa loves all kids. Even ginger ones.”
The world’s biggest sperm bank announced this year that it was going to start turning away redheads because not enough people want children with red hair.
Those parents don’t know what they’re missing.