I am trying to bring back eth and thorn because they are the coolest letters this side of X and K. If you enjoy the letter C, please leave my blog like now. It's the coccyx of the alphabet. There's probably a reason that coccyx has three C's.
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Perchance you have noticed the sub-head of the Kinderbloggen page. I have oh-so unoriginally subtitled this "I hope this baby comes with an instruction manual." My research so far has come from reading Big Daddy Drew's old blog. Humorous? Yes. Helpful? Uh... no. Here is what I know about babies:
1. I now know I am not infertile. Technically this is not about the general subject of babies per se, but makes me want to high five everyone I see.
2. I know that babies can breathe while swallowing. Yes, I'm jealous. Extremely. Think of how much more Tex-Mex I could down if I didn't have to waste time waiting for my lungs to fill with "life-giving, precious oxygen." This gaseous molecule is OVERRATED, I say!)
3. ???
4. Profit.
Everything else I do not know. I don't know how often they eat, poop, sleep, when they start talking, when they start walking, at what age they become scared of clowns (instinctive?), at what age they are capable of developing an irrational hatred for an institute of higher learning that I voluntarily chose not to attend, literally nothing. If there's one thing I don't like, it's not knowing something, except of course that which I do not know that I do not know. Oh, I'm sorry, did I just blow your mind?
I do like flowcharts and instructions, but I find reasonable doubt that my baby will provide these. Damn it, baby, already disappointing me in utero!
*author rocks out to Heart Shaped Box*
At least I have the opportunity to read books and go to classes. While in those classes or reading those books, I can put on my glasses instead of my contacts, put on my "I are a very serious students" face, and nod seriously, knowingly, even if on the inside I will find everything mind-blowing. ("Babies need love and attention? Why are they so demanding? Next thing you know they'll want to be fed regularly.) It's probably been this way for first-time fathers since we evolved from tarsiers*. How did people do it when they didn't have these resources? How did they do it when they couldn't call a doctor at 3:00 am? These are serious questions, by the way. I'm sure babies are resilient, but it can't be so much guess and check, right? Besides, even if you're doing it right, they'll still cry.
This is how I would have reacted in yon olden tymes, while holding my huge axe. (Interesting note: People had a surplus of letters back then, except for U's, which hadn't been invented by Ben Franklin yet. This surplus existed because their banks hadn't failed. Medieval banks served as depositories for two things: money, which no one actually had because they were all serfs, even the kings, and letters. Consider yourself edumacated.)And somehow we as a species have managed to progress to this stage where I am "writing" this "blogge post" on a "platform" that exists somewhere in the ether, physically stored in bits of electrical current and charge in silicon and copper. How bizarre. Of course, we are a species that has managed to make "Deal or No Deal" (a.k.a. "Blurt Out a Random Number Because You Are Incapable of Mentally Computing Simple Odds and May Not Actually Even Be Aware of That Concept!") a hit.
We as a species are so screwed, but I feel better about my relative capacity to parent. Plus I'm ecstatic because that moran won a dollar (American, though!).
*may not be factually correct, I am not a biologist.
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