Monday, May 09, 2005

R.I.P. Booray

Three days ago, the wife informed me that she's pregnant. My first question was, naturally, "Who's the father?" It can't possibly be me since we've reduced our sex-life to once-a-month. Everytime we have sex I know it's time to change the air filter.

My immediate reaction to the news was full-on panic, followed by overwhelming anxiety and crushing despair. In fact, I would have written this entire post sooner but it's taken three days for the family to coax me out from under the bed. On the plus side, I did find a hairbrush that's been missing since 1997.

In an attempt to get some support for what I view as the end of my life as I've known it, I contacted some friends who have two children. First, I called Brian, who has two girls.

"Congratulations, your life is over!" He said. "Just pray it isn't a girl."

"Why, won't two girls get along better and play together?"

"Yea, you go with that theory pal and let me know how it works for ya. Three women in the house is not a good thing by any measure of the word. Wait until they're all on their period and you'll be willing to walk across cut glass to get out of the house!" Brian can always be counted on to cheer me up.

"Ya' know," I said, "I don't like the idea of having to give less attention to Samantha. I know that kids don't realize that they get less attention from their parents when they have siblings because the sibling fills in with attention too. Still, I'll know and I'll feel bad about it." I said, expecting to get the usual rap about "plenty of love to go around," etc.

"Oh, your wrong there too," He said, "She'll definitely know she's getting less attention and she'll be bitter about it. She'll resent you and she'll resent her sibling and it won't stop until she's forty! It's a living nightmare, pal and welcome to it!"

Much-love to you too, my brother.

My next call was to Jennifer, who has two boys. I have never spoken to Jen without her stopping at least once to say something like this, "Stop spraying your brother! Stop! No, it is not an accident. Nobody turns on the hose and sprays their brother by "accident!" My personal favorite is, "No, you cannot ride your tricycle down the stairs while holding scissors!" If I ever write a book about child-rearing, the title will be, "No, you cannot ride your tricycle down the stairs while holding scissors."

Jennifer was much more upbeat. "I'm so happy for you," She said, "You're screwed!"

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