Wow.

I thought I deleted this shit.

Well a few things have happened in the intervening years. The aforementioned bun-in-the-oven has since been birthed. My participation in that process was vital, I'm sure. Mostly I just stood next to my moaning wife and scowled. For a day and a half.

Long labor.

The cherub has plumped and stretched into a rather large two-year-old that looks like she's already three. Her linguistic development has outstripped my expectations, leaving me chronically exhaling through flared nostrils. She's a bit of a sass-mouth.

Instead of simply saying 'no', she says shit like, 'I just can't.'

Parenthood is kind of fucked. It's not a popular opinion, but it's true. The constant care and feeding of offspring is really peculiar. I would never do this shit for someone I didn't actually help spawn.

Maybe a foster kid or something, but that's it.

It baffles me when I think of trading a lifetime of free will for a job as prison guard. I'm not even the warden, just a lowly cage-rattling bull. Ever the unwilling resident, the cherub has turned conscientious objection into a way of life. She will refuse anything offered her and protest with demonic vehemence any limitation.

How can someone be insane and too young for preschool?