:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: Saturday, March 18, 2006 ::

:: I'm too Young for this Crap ::

Those who know me in real life know that while I like kids, I'm adamant about never having any of my own. My friends who trust me with their kids think I'm nuts but I have my reasons. One of them being is that when you're babysitting, it's never for more than a couple of hours and being as it I'm their "Uncle Dan-E" I'm never put in a position to discipline them. If anything, I can encourage mischief. However, being a guy, it seems I may still have traces of paternal instincts, despite my best efforts, and nowhere was it more apparent than last weekend when The Girlfriend's son Patrick came to visit last weekend.

He's an adorable 7-year old who's simultaeously precocious and immature for his age and while we had fun with him, there times where I wanted to punt the spastic little midget into the Miami Dolphins special teams unit, which I know sounds horrible but it really isn't, since their special teams sucked last season. Especially last Sunday when I was babysitting while The Girlfriend was at work: he was playing with his Lightsaber while I was on my laptop (he's similar to me in that he's easily amused and is quite gifted in keeping himself entertained by playing with his Lightsaber) which was fine, till he started pounding on my futon "yelling I have the power!" (I don't remember exact details.) It got annoying pretty quickly and I told him to stop a couple of times. After a third time, I used some words in a raised voice that, even if I lived to be a thousand, I thought I would never have to say in my lifetime:

"PATRICK. DO YOU WANT A TIME OUT?"

And apparently it worked as he uttered a meek "no" but I didn't realize it until much later because the moment I said it, I went into the same kind of dumbfounded shock and horror that Luke must have felt after Darth Vader revealed his true identity, only in my case it was more my subconscious telling me "Dan-E, you have become your father." (Though for whatever reason, they both have the same deep, menacing voice. James Earl Jones, I hate you now. Sorry for the digression.) All I remember is that my vision got blurry, I started to dry heave - I think I threw up in my mouth - and I eventually collapsed on the floor, curled up into the fetal position, and mumbled over and over "it's not happening. It's not happening."

Ok, I may have exaggerating somewhat in the previous paragraph. I threw up in my mouth just a little.

I told The Girlfriend about this later and, being the sympathetic type, she proceeds to comfort me by laughing in my face like I told her the funniest knock-knock joke (she likes those... *shudder*) ever. Whatever. I'm never having kids. A vasectomy is what, three grand?

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:51 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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