“Are you going to get a boat instead?” I asked.
As I understand it, the payoff for not having kids, besides the millions of extra hours of sleep, is that you get to have a boat. Also, you get to live your entire adult life without having the term “urine-soaked” apply to you.
Though she might have been expecting one, Colleen wasn’t going to get an argument from us. Back when Kara was pregnant, we used to work on our friends, saying, “Aw, come on, have one!” like we were offering them a Chiclet. But now that we’ve lived through the first ten months of parenthood, we’d never dream of pressuring anyone else into it, even those, like Colleen and Chris, who would be primo parents. The decision to upend your life and permanently pause your video games needs to come from you and your partner alone, not from those who might be looking to score an occasional playdate out of the transaction.
Of course, this doesn’t stop random passersby from asking me and Kara when we’re going to have another baby, which seems a lot like walking up to someone as they crawl out of the smoking wreckage of their overturned vehicle and asking, “When are you gonna do that again?”
“Not anytime soon, I hope,” you’d reply, in either situation.
We’ll get around to expanding our family eventually, and I don’t mean to imply that parenthood has been a bad experience. Sometimes, it’s been terrible. Most of the time, terribly rewarding.
For us, having a baby is like this: There’s a restaurant on the
“We’ll help you out down the home stretch. We promise,” we lied.
With our three plates clean, and half a pie remaining on Kara’s plate, the three guys just stared at the table, trying not to make eye contact. We just couldn’t eat any more of that pizza.
That’s how Kara and I both feel about having another baby right now. We just can’t eat any more of that pizza, not yet.
“I just wanted a stupid salad!” Kara says every time I wear my awesome T-shirt.
Several of our friends are standing at the edge of the gene pool and deciding that it’s doing just fine without their contributions. Colleen and Chris were visiting us with another couple last weekend, who also floated the possibility that they might not have kids.
“Oh, can we go to a place that has a bar in the pool?” one of them said, as they planned the trip the four of them are taking to
“It’s gotta be a place that doesn’t allow kids. I don’t need all the ruckus while I’m trying to relax,” came the reply, as our son Evan banged spoons together in the next room.
Then Kara and I entered the room, and everyone fell silent.
“Sorry, we started talking about it when you weren’t here,” they said, looking like they’d been caught eating sundaes by their lactose intolerant friends.
Among his many powers, Evan has rendered our passports completely useless. Unless one of us makes a break for it.
You can sail away with Mike Todd at