(by Pete Lopez. Read his blog Road to Absolute Zero.)
Last weekend I visited a former college drinking buddy who recently purchased some land and built a home on it. I am proud of how he has grown; he has a beautiful wife and even one of those kid thingamajigs. I just don’t share that much in common with youngsters as of yet. We can happily coexist for an hour or two since they are an easy audience if entertained in daylight. I could try out new PG material about girls I am dating with nice “personalities” or do some juggling. Not to brag, but I do posses the ability to keep oranges or grenades airborne for at least 11 seconds before they plummet to the floor. It’s a win win situation. Children gaze in amazement as the balls circle around and then find it hysterical when they tumble down stairs leaking juice or roll under the couch and explode.
Later, though, after the enjoyment has ceased, we usually have a difference of opinion of how to continue the evening and split on our merry ways. At night their fatigue leads to crankiness and screaming about having to brush their teeth. I tend to be emotionless about the tooth hygiene process and still have plenty of energy left for nighttime debauchery. The local bar always has something happening and as of yet, I still haven’t given up on the dream of picking up several hot girls at a bar and returning home with them.
Well, that’s when the problems arise. Unfortunately the needs of a young one trump my own. I could adventure out unsupervised and inebriated and it’s perfectly normal but leaving a child alone is typically frowned upon and possibly dangerous, even if left securely chained to a cushioned folding chair.
I recall my friend had to even plan my visit in advance by scheduling babysitters and placing the poison control hotline number by the phone. My preparation began the night before when I gathered some clean appearing clothes and shoved them into a duffle bag. The response time I require is minimal and my responsibility level is inferior. I’d rate it perfect for low maintenance plants that get thirsty approx once a week. Sometimes I am absent minded and water twice a week or sometimes I forget for an entire month, we are talking average here. I have this bad habit of remembering to water it at times when I am unable to. Say I’m stuck late at the office solving complex quadratic equations, donating at a blood bank or way too hung-over to mix hydrogen and oxygen into a watering can, I’ll think to myself, “Damn, I haven’t watered my plant in ages. I’ll have to spoil it with some bottled water next time.”
I have also tinkered with the idea of upgrading to sparkling water or a mimosa but have yet to follow through. In theory it sounds quite rewarding to the taste buds of the flora but I am nervous the species fails to share the advanced desire for complex liquids. In the meantime I will stick with regular tap water until nature takes the first step and clouds begin raining tastier liquids.
Anyway, with a kid you can’t be negligent for a week or two but make amends with a trip to the amusement park for roller coasters and stuffed animals. Sure the child would love the tradeoff because they are only able to process the fun part of the deal and don’t understand the consequences. In my new adult role, I’d be skeptical they have the preserving traits of a cactus and follow the teachings of Smokey the Bear.
That is not even considering the risk of social services arresting me for child abandonment. Discarded plants can live for eternity as compost and a dead fish can be flushed up to heaven without fearing criminal charges. A toddler though, society has a problem with disposing of ones failed regardless if I sign up for adult education course and promise to improve next time. I am a firm believer in learning from mistakes and would never repeat the same error, but something about children and second chances doesn’t flow that well with the public.
After putting this all in perspective I place myself as having the capability of caring for a camel, a robot with strong battery power, a carton of milk with a lengthy expiration date or a highly independent cat, possibly even having its own home. I’m confident a puppy would be able to survive in my care but probably not thrive and I anticipate lots of frustration on my behalf. I hear myself ranting things like “Can’t that dog feed itself, I do” or “Would it kill the dog to do the dishes just once?” I think as an overall, (drum roll please) I am not sure I am ready for a child, but I want to go out and practice trying to have one.
Looking back afterward, that explanation did not succeed the way in which I intended it to. I was perfectly satisfied with my short one line joke. Instead, I now exposed myself as an irresponsible loser who is incapable of providing for children because my top priorities are getting intoxicated and womanizing. In the one line remark I was appeared witty and nobody grew aware of any of my faults. Adding more dialogue is not in my best interest and I have learned a valuable lesson about conserving myself to short doses.
