Parenthood.

So I'm a bit fascinated with parenthood and how it changes people. There are 2 likely causes of this fascination: First, pretty much all of my friends have had kids over the past 2-3 years - and I do mean ALL of them. Those that have abstained from reproduction can be counted on one shop teacher's hand.

Second, I will - in all likelihood - never have children, myself. Now, now - don't cry for me yet, Argentina. You should know that a)I'm not afflicted by any real desire or need to be a parent, and b) I probably wouldn't be very good at it - I don't come from a line of particularly strong fathers. So it's okay if I don't father any kids of my own, really. Even if it wasn't, I ain't gettin' any younger and it's not like the women are knocking down my door screaming "Put a baby in me!" So no, I don't think there's much chance I'll be popping out any miniature people.

But that's okay - I much prefer the concept of being "crazy uncle Colin" over boring old "Dad". For one, I don't ever have to be the bad guy. I can be all fun, all the time. For two, I can lie to the little ankle-biters, which I love to do - nothing awful or harmful to them, mind you, just fun little bits of fiction*.

I'm enjoying watching my friends evolve, that's for sure. It's interesting to see their priorities shift (and heartening to see that they're shifting in the right direction; I won't have to worry about any of these kids), and to listen to them telling stories about the most mundane events possible as if they're discussing a chance encounter with, like, James Dean or some such thing. Incidentally, those mundane stories, as it turns out, aren't anywhere near as annoying as I'd feared they would be; it's actually kind of cute.

My immediate goal is to get each and every one of these little rug rats to refer to me as "Uncle Stan" - because sooner or later their parents are going to have to explain that nickname** to them, and it's gonna be awesome.


*an example: My good friends' boy, Connor, came up to me at a baseball game once and demanded that I explain to him why the sky was blue. I mentioned that his dad really ought to explain it to him, but he replied that his dad was "too busy". So, after giving it some careful thought, I decided to tell him the sky was blue because I painted it that way. No big thing - until later that summer, while mom and dad were painting the house (and of course arguing about it) and Connor piped up with the following admonishment: "Stop fighting so much! Uncle Colin painted the whole sky and you don't see him complaining." Angels. They're little angels.

**there is a story behind this nickname, of course - one day I may even explain it here***.

***or perhaps I already have explained it... I don't remember. This is your brain after multiple severe concussions and several dubious lifestyle choices.