I was one of those moms that stared at her baby constantly. I marveled at him. Luckily, my friends also enjoyed this pastime. Maybe because we were broke. Staring at Marcus staring at the ceiling fan, or lying next to him and staring at the ceiling fan, was a hobby we could all afford.

Also because he was beautiful, he smiled readily, and his eyes sparkled.

I watched his deep blue eyes, expecting them to change into brown, or hazel, or in-between-green-and-something-else, like mine.

After he turned a year old, I celebrated the knowledge: Those blue eyes are here to stay!

A few months later he was at an evaluation of some sort with several clinical and scary looking people and one of them used the words: “Brushfield spots.”