I’ve become one of those parents who demand their children go to the bathroom. “But I don’t have to.” “Well, go anyway.
I don’t want you to think I don’t love my extended family. I do. I just don’t want to be around them. Some of this is because I’m a loner. Some of this is because at family gatherings you are forced to face the short genetic distance between you and a clinically insane person.
You want to be there for emotional support, yet everything you say or do ends up irritating the mother-to-be while she is in labor.
If you’ve never been to a Catholic Mass, don’t worry, it’s still going on, you still have time to catch it.
So why a book? Well, since you’ve come into my life, you’ve been a constant source of entertainment while simultaneously driving me insane. I felt I had to write down my observations about you in a book. And also for money, so you could eat and continue to break things.
I am sure everyone reading this book values their sleep, but I am a sleep enthusiast! My dream is to become one of those grandpas in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who just lives in bed. That looked awesome.
Even in the ’70s and ’80s, the television show Happy Days was aware of the irony of “cool.” The cool character on Happy Days was “the Fonz,” and he was ridiculous. His office was in a men’s bathroom. That’s not only not cool, that’s not even sanitary.
I used to have a lot of faith in humanity before the advent of the website “comment” section.
All healthy babies eventually walk, but we treat those first steps like someone has just risen out of a wheelchair at a healing revival. “He’s walking! It’s a miracle!
Being happy is really the definition of success, isn’t it?
Being a parent is a selfless adventure. The worldview of “Take care of yourself first” is no longer logical to a sane person if your baby wakes up hungry in the middle of the night.