The fact that Topher resided for roughly nine months in my body seems completely out of context. His correct context is his father. They look exactly alike.
The Boss resembled The Partner from the beginning, but those inclined to look hard enough were able to rationalize a resemblance to me that they would offer up with only slight hesitatation. As in, "Hmmm, well. It looks like she might have your eyes."
With my son, no such rationalization is possible. He is his father from the devil's-horn hairline to the flaring nostrils to his waif-weight at birth. As much as I love The Partner, and don't doubt that I do, it's strange watching this miniature version of him sucking away at my teat for an approximate total of 12 hours out of any given day.
To look at us--this baby and me--it's hard to see the connection. I should've saved that last blackened remnant of the umbilical cord as proof.
Topher, circa last week