Real/baby Greg

With Ava’s impending arrival, baby momma and I have been talking more and more about what she might look like. Will she get Brandie’s dark brown hair or my extremely blonde hair? Her family’s nose bump, my eyes, and which set of ears? We imagine she will be just a step above a midget in height. Brandie is only 5’2”, I am somewhere between 5’6 and 5’7. None of our parents are very tall either. Her career as a WNBA star needs to follow that of a Spud Webb rather than a Shaq.

Through this process I thought of me as I am now. I have not seen baby pictures of myself in a very long time. Brandie looks nearly identical now to her baby/childhood pictures. Then my mom in her mother’s day and post baby shower euphoria decided to dig up and post to facebook a few baby pictures of me. Seriously, what the hell has happened here?

The Greg that is actually me

Brandie and I frequently joke about me being swapped at birth somehow. I grew up in Saline County, which for those of you who don’t know is quite possibly the highest concentration of rednecks in the world. Yet here I am. I despise the word “Ya’ll”, NASCAR, hunting, cheap beer, and pickup trucks. I speak with a neutral accent and voted for Obama (and will do it again). One thing is clear, I am not from around here.


If you look at my baby pictures it is apparent that the real Greg was swapped with the person I am. My early pictures look nothing like me currently. Then, magically, somewhere around school age I start to show similarities to my current self. I envision the original Greg sitting around in Chicago or New York, pissed because the sports bars do not show NASCAR and wondering why everyone looks at him funny when he has this overwhelming desire to dress up in cammo and sit in a tree for hours.

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