I wanted to apologize for a few things. Our house still smells faintly of musty cat. We generally serve cheaper wine that the stuff you bring over (we keep the good stuff and drink it after you leave.) When we dine out together, I often look at how much of a tip you’ve left, and then leave a little more, winking at the wait staff on the way out as if to say, “Sorry about my friends, but don’t worry, I got your back.”
I also wanted to take up a subject that has been coming up more and more lately. Most of you have two kids. We have just the one. This wouldn’t seem like that much of an issue, but it turns out to be relatively important, and not in a good way. When our kids get together, our child acts as an impartial third party who is able to settle all longstanding disputes between siblings. Who is the funner child? The one who Malcolm plays with first! Who is the better athlete? The one Malcolm wants on his team! Who is the better wizard/jedi/teacher/parent/weasel? You guessed it, our boy. With every choice Malcolm makes, he sends the implicit message that one of your kids is special, and the other is a piece of shit. Sorry! When you hang with us, one of your kids is generally going to be upset.
It’s not as if Malcolm is uniquely situated as some sort of talent identifier protege. Really, he’s no Paula Abdul. He just gets to be a second vote. And when there are only three votes, the second vote is kind of important. (That’s why marital counselors are so popular!) This is what many of our play dates with you look like:
Activity is decided. For the purpose of this exercise, let’s use Malcolm’s favorite activity at school. It is a game called weasels. I’m not sure what connection he has to weasels other than the name is fun to say. So the kids start playing weasels.
5 minutes later the roles are defined and play commences. Usually there is a parent weasel and a few youngin’ weasels, sometimes there is a general weasel and some spy weasels, depending on the gender of the play date attendees. (For obvious reasons, we put the kibosh on the game that involved the Rihanna and Chris Brown weasels.)
2 minutes later, the parent weasel realizes that the kid weasels are having way more fun and wants to switch. No switch is made, and the two kid weasels begin to make fun of the parent weasel for being lame.
1 minute later, the parent weasel attacks the baby weasel and tries to find out if weasels go to heaven when they die. Parental intervention is necessary. The parents are irritated that their precious conversations have been interrupted and threaten to stuff all the weasels into a sack and smack them against the side of the house.
You might have been asking yourselves, “Why don’t you just have another kid and join the rest of us?” Fair question. (If you are insane.) Have you not noticed what a pain in the ass it is to have a kid? We went through the sleepless nights, the endless crying, the bottles, diapers and long sessions staring at the new kid, just to make sure they are still breathing. Think we’re going through all that again? No chance! Once you get in the habit of NOT wiping someone else’s anus and skin folds several times a day, you’re not really looking for reasons to go back. Also, my hoodie is nearly vomit free and I intend to keep it that way. I am told, as well, that there is something called “sibling rivalry” which does not sound very enticing and we aren’t really looking to sign up for that either. As nice as it would be to have a back up in case Malcolm turns out to be an axe murderer, we are just going to stick it out with the one.
Plus, there is this thing called the “love pie” that I invented in order for me to get people off our backs when they kept asking when we were going to have a second kid. Here’s how it goes. You only have a certain amount of love that you can give to this world. When you are all alone, you love your TV and your favorite pair of sweats. Then, you meet someone and fall madly in love with them ( causing you to throw out those old sweats.) If you decide to have a child, you spread the love you have between your significant other and your child. When you have a second child, you must spread that love between three people instead of two, meaning your love for each of the wonderful people in your life drops by a whopping 16% when you have your second child. Not good! (If you think the Love Pie theory is a bit flimsy, the groundwork was actually laid out by a pretty smart guy named Albert Einstein. His theory of relativity can be paraphrased as “You only have so much love to give your relatives, so try and make sure you don’t have too many.” So there. It’s science.)
So friends, I am sorry that our familial arrangements are causing some grief. Why not attack this problem more proactively and get rid of the least popular kid your house? All parents say they love their kids equally, but I totally know they don’t mean it. Get rid of one of your kids and we’ll have smooth sailing from here on in. Thanks.
Paul and Amy
P.S. Anyone know how to get rid of cat funk?