I’m at the pharmacy and this sweet lady next to me says, “Oh your boy is so adorable”.
It’s Crazy Cat, my youngest, he then proceeds to come over to me, meowing, with little T-rex arms and starts licking my knee covered by my jeans.
“Thanks. He’s pretty feral too”, I respond cringing, face scrunched up.
Big Boy comes over next and leans against me, sitting on the arm of the chair.
“Oh you have another one!” she’s delighted.
“Actually, there are three”, I say, and right on cue, Middle Man arrives.
“Oh wow! Red hair is rare and beautiful. You beat the recessive gene!” she says excitedly. Like we’ve won the genetic lottery.
When I looked this up, she was indeed correct, as there are only an estimated 2% of the population with red-hair, and only 1% with red hair and blue eyes, like our Big Boy.
I couldn’t count the amount of times that I’ve been asked the question… “Where does the red hair come from?”
My brain usually responds with “Mostly their head? Genetics?” I’m still not sure how to answer this question?
You’d think I would know by now. Wherever we go, the boys have always got lots of attention due to their flaming red locks. Their dad was a ‘flaming Ranga’ growing up. He’s more ‘grey gibbon’ these days. Not that he’s a small jungle monkey with his nips out, he wouldn’t be described as small and his hair is definitely no longer red. His mum, the boys’ ‘Meema’, has red hair too.
“Oh I love it!” people say.
“Thank you. That’s very kind” I reply.
“Do you dye it?” some ask.
“Oh yes, Ma’am, every month I line these boys up and paint their heads with a few boxes of dye called, ‘Tinge-o-Ginge’, ‘Proper-Carrot-Top’ and ‘Flamin’-Ranga’. I’m sorry. That’s a lie. Yes, it’s natural.” They usually laugh at this, but I really should stop lying to old nanas.
There is red hair on my side of the family, also. My hubby calls me a ‘closet ginger’, like I’ve got all of the features of a Ginger (freckles, fair skin, green eyes) and when my hair washes out from brown or blonde, there is always a little more than a ‘tinge of ginge’. But I insist that I am somewhere between blonde and brunette. My Dad is a redhead. He had a giant red beard back in the 80s-90s. Pretty impressive. I wish I could track down a photo, but that seems like far too much effort, rummaging through storage containers. My half-brothers and sister (from his first marriage – that’s a story for another day) are also red-headed.
The answer to the question is; genetics – plain and simple. The red-haired gene is part of both mine and my husband’s DNA making the chances of our children having red hair very likely.
Sometimes I’ll go a long time without hearing this question, and I’ll think. “That’s strange, no one has asked me about the boy’s hair colour for a while”?” Then out of the blue, someone will say to me…
“I can see where they get their red hair from!” pointing at my own hair! It’s at this point I realise I’m overdue for a visit to the hairdresser to mellow out my ‘closet ginger-ness’. Hubby loves it when this happens, mostly because he loves being right.