My dad is Irish, and my mom is Filipino. After my siblings’ and my baby teeth fell out and our adult teeth grew in, we saw what was coming next. Braces. You see, different races have different jaw structures. Different tooth shapes. Different faces. When you combine the genes of two different races, the phenotypes often get a little messy. 

For me, my teeth grew in like a shark. My baby teeth wouldn’t fall out, so a second row grew in behind. My teeth looked like a city skyline. Some were longer than others. Some were missing. I always thought that my older sister’s teeth were perfect. They were straight and evenly shaped compared to mine, well except for one tooth. She had a tooth that projected outward. When her mouth closed it peeked out in curiosity. My younger brother Zachary was a child model, but that stopped as soon as his front teeth grew in facing each other. They were a book opened at an obtuse angle, except with a space between. My younger sister Grace had the same problem as Zachary. Her bottom teeth were those same skinny little skyscrapers. My youngest brother Finn’s teeth are chess pieces. Their sizes aren’t uniform; some are wide and short, some are long and skinny. They are all spaced apart unlike the rest of ours. 

My mother’s teeth are white kernels of corn. Rounded at the front and in close proximity. They glisten when she laughs and sparkle when she smiles. My father’s teeth have coffee stains that have been darkening since his undergraduate school. They are teeth of all nighters, teeth of a doctor.