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Well, that's just wierd


2004-05-12 at 11:34 a.m.

Ooh. This is just wierd.

Apparently, my father's biological clock is ticking, or something. He has recently been expressing a desire for grandchildren.

What? And may I say again, what?

My dad is a great guy, don't get me wrong. He's wierd and fun and he loves my brother and I very much, but he's never really liked kids, especially babies. When my brother and I were little, he was kind of like, "Well, okay, but what do I do with them? Can they talk? More importantly, can they vote? What are their opinions on President Reagan's de-regulation of mental health services to the poor?"

He didn't start being 'Action Dad' until Big Al and I were old enough to be interesting.

And, in the past, he's always been uncomfortable with little children. He just stares at them. When Baby J and Special K went back to Texas with me last summer, my dad had no idea what to do with Baby J. He kind of waved at her and asked if she wanted to watch CNN with him. She was 2 for chrissakes.

Then again, that was my childhood, so I guess I shouldn't complain. Watching 'Crossfire' while sitting on the couch with my dad and eating Cheetohs was how we bonded.

But now, he's gotten all gooshy and wants grandkids, according to my mom, who is even more wierded out by this than I am.

I told her it's peer pressure. All his other friends have grandkids and he just wants to fit in. All he has in his wallet are pictures of the cat and those aren't as much fun to show off during his Saturday morning breakfast with his cronies at the Village Inn. And he certainly can't brag about the cat's accomplishments. Besides, that damn cat's 20 years old. The only thing she has in common with babies is the lack of teeth. And she drools.

"Guess what Butterscotch did today? She yawned! And licked her butt! Isn't she special?!"

My mother fully denies any similar urges, but Big Al claims that he saw her holding my dad's law partner's new baby and cooing at it.

The day my mom coos at anything is the day I vote Republican. Then again, maybe I'm just jealous. She never cooed at me, dammit.

Normally, my mom leans down, looks the child in the face and says in a serious voice, "Well hello young man (or lady). How are you doing today? I see that you have soiled your diaper with a bowel movement. Perhaps it should be exchanged for a clean one. Yes, I believe that is a good idea as you are becoming most odiferous."

I swear on my ALA membership she's like that. She even talks that way to the damn cat. "Well, Butterscotch, I see that you have vomited up a hairball on my immaculately clean carpet. I believe that we have already had a talk about this. In the future, I would appreciate it if you restricted yourself to vomiting in the laundry room, where the floor is covered with tile and is easier to clean."

I don't know what's wrong with those two, but Big Al is feeling the pressure, although subtly. And, I personally think he's getting more pressure from his girlfriend of eight frickin' years than my parents. But that, my friends, is a whole 'nother barrel of fish.

I hope I didn't make my parents sound bad. They were good parents as far as I'm concerned. No, we didn't do things like go to amusement parks (except for one disastrous trip to Disney World)or hold hands and skip through lush greenery or form a musical group and travel the country in a loud, psychadelic bus, or whatever it is that Hollywood has us convinced that happy families do.

I spent my childhood at bars, political rallies and various campaign headquarters. I never sat on Santa's lap, but I did meet Michael Dukakis and Gary Hart (before the scandal hit)and while I never went to 'Sesame Street on Ice' or the circus, I can proudly say that I worked hard to elect many, many local politicians and even a few state and national ones as well.

I went to more post-election parties than birthday parties. And while that may have made me a bit awkward as a child, ("Who cares about ninja turtles? Do you know what Vice President Quayle said on TV last night?! POTATOE!")I had fun, dammit.

Sorry. I went off on a tangent there. I personally think my dad would be a good grandpa. He likes to spoil people and he'd probably have a lot of fun spoiling grandkids, telling them stories to freak them out and conspiring with them against their parents.

I'm sure my mom would be fine too. She's probably got a secret 'baby-talk' urge she needs to indulge in.

Hell, I spew baby talk all the time. With Baby J, I was practically nonintelligible. And, when Hilde was around, I was like that, too. But honestly, they were both sooo cute! It was hard to form coherent sentences when assaulted by their cuteness. Much easier to grunt and giggle and make noises while pinching cheeks and squeezing them. Eeee!

Ahem. Anyway, whoa, this was a hella long entry. I guess I'm just wierded out by the idea of my parents wanting grandkids. And of the idea of my brother providing them. Big Al...spawning. *shudder*

1 cuuute widdle comments!

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