Nurture, not nature, I still firmly intoned. Who they are is up to their parents

"Who are you?” My four-month-old gazes up at me with his all-color-no-color eyes (they have yet to settle on an official shade), burbling happily. He’s cute (of course), he’s cuddly (indubitably), and the wind gets knocked out of me every time he smiles.

But I don’t know who he is.

I had once believed children were the result of nurture, not nature. Parents, I was sure, are the main influence in our lives; personality and behavior take shape from our carers’ influence.

I’m the youngest in my family, so while I didn’t have baby siblings, I became an aunt at age 12. I was immediately hands-on, cheerfully babysitting on long Shabbos afternoons while the parents grabbed a delicious nap. I played with the infants, read to them, fed them, sang them to sleep.

Nurture, not nature, I still firmly intoned. Who they are is up to their parents.