Sometimes I think about my future with my son, and I’m fine. And sometimes I’m not. Sometimes, I think about the future and I want to skedaddle. I want it to be like a cartoon, where my legs are just spinning like a pinwheel until I get traction, and then you’d hear the sound of a slide-whistle as I burst out of the house, leaving a Nanook-shaped hole in the wall.
It’s not as though serious things are causing the freak-outs. I’m not obsessed with the new financial obligations, or the baby’s health, or the fact that I have to stop sniffing glue. The things that freak me out tend to be relatively insignificant.
Yesterday, I got caught up in one little fact: Boys are gross. There is no way around that. Boys do weird stuff, and they smell funny—a cloud of funk is constantly draped around their body. Boys pick their nose and eat their own scabs.
That kid you know in elementary school—the one who would eat anything for a dollar? That was never a little girl. The one who could burp the alphabet? A boy. The one who thought it was hilarious to hand a refrigerated cup of his own urine to his brother and tell him it was lemonade? That hombre was riding around with an extra Y chromosome. And boys only get worse as they get older. They smell funkier, and they teabag foreheads and victimize their friends with the ultimate sit-up, and then sit around and giggle like imbeciles.
And it doesn’t matter that the pee/lemonade thing is still really, really funny. It was still weird. It was still something that should probably not be encouraged as acceptable social behavior in our day and age.
Don’t get me wrong: I have very little experience with girls, but I would imagine that they are also completely messed up. However, I feel like their weirdness won’t manifest itself until they’re around 12, when their bitchiness-gene becomes fully developed and their bodies start going through Bruce Banner-like changes that, although I’m almost 34, I still don’t fully understand.
But boys are weird from the get-go. I wouldn’t be surprised if my child drops out of the womb playing the old “pull my finger” game and laughing like an idiot.
Well, I’d be a little surprised, but if he’s anything like his old man, he’ll be weird. Hell, when I was little, I used to tell people that I was actually a monkey who had his tail cut off in an accident. I used to go up to strangers and say this to them! I used to spit on the living room carpet. My parents had to actually sit me down and tell me not to spit on the living room carpet, BECAUSE I WAS SPITTING ON THE LIVING ROOM CARPET!
So, you know, I have that to look forward to.