Inheritance

My mother didn’t cook too well Although she fed us fine. Her house was not immaculate, Much messier than mine. She didn’t knit, crochet or quilt But she was great at sports; She swam and bowled and tennised Really well, by all reports. And oh, could she dance up a storm! She crossword-puzzled, too. When things were good or bad for me, Somehow, she always knew. She passed down many of her traits But no, I cannot dance And barely swim but I can bowl, Though rarely have the chance. I do the crossword every day But like her, hate to cook. While she escaped in naps, I disappear inside a book. We all have inclinations That our parents have bestowed, Though babies make us wonder What is waiting down the road. We hope that they’ll inherit Just those qualities we’d pick But we have no way of knowing What will fade and what will stick.