Naked in a Cape
“I guess the real reason that my wife and I had children is the same reason that Napoleon had for invading Russia: it seemed like a good idea at the time.” ― Bill Cosby
From a logical perspective, there is little reason to breed. Children scream their entrance into the world and shit on something or someone shortly thereafter. They are ravenous demons — a vortex of cash disposal and destruction. They don’t even really look like humans when they pop out.
As they age, they quickly take on better qualities. Their ability to destroy does benefit from mobility, but increasing cuteness mitigates some of the rage destruction would normally engender.
Three is a magic number. The personality starts to crystallize and you find yourself in the charge of a little human rather than a reactive eating, sleeping, shitting machine. Whereas there was only impulse, there is now a seedling of free will.
And you get to shape it.
Fatherhood is relentless. Every “yeah,” even the ones that are imitations of your own “yeahs,” require a correction into “yes sir.”Every “I want” must be morphed into “may I have?” Your house cannot become a nudist colony.
It sneaks up on you. The former three year old is now sitting at the table, napkin in lap, eating what Mom prepared. Five is so old. Five exercises caution. Three runs through the room in a homemade cape, and nothing else, and the only answer is to smile. Soon, she’ll be five and sitting at the table.
The four month old learns to laugh. Soon enough, she’ll run through the room in a homemade cape and not much else.