I grew up in a houseful of brown-eyed brunettes. My older brother and sister both inherited my dad's big brown eyes and dark hair, whereas I inherited my mom's blue eyes and blonde hair. On top of that, I was also on the short side, having taken after my grandmother on my dad's side of the family (or so I have been told).
Needless to say, my brother and sister used to tease me unmercifully about being left on the front porch of our house in a picnic basket, covered up with a red and white checked cloth, waiting to be adopted by our parents.
But I would feel justified later on during the day when I would crawl up on my mom and dad's bed before my afternoon nap and cuddle next to my mom. The two of us would roll towards each other till we were eye to eye, giggling a little, and then she would say, "It's time for your nap, my Big Blue Eyed Girl". Those little words made me feel so good, like I truly belonged to that family of dark eyed giants and that I was somehow magical because it was just me that got to have blue eyes.
I felt so special when my mom would tell me those words.
Fast forward to that afternoon in Walter Reed Army Hospital 23 years ago when I held my daughter for the first time and looked down at her looking back at me and I got to repeat those very same words to her, "Hello, my Big Blue Eyed Girl".
We still get eye to eye for me to say those words to her, except now I have to get on my tip toes.
Win some, lose some, right?