Playful, elegant, and not above the judicious use of the word “shit."

The stamina of Chuck Schuldiner

Yesterday I was commiserating with another mother about the temperament of our infants who are close in age, although her son doesn’t seem to have as much trouble as Marlo does with teething. I’ve mentioned this before, but when a tooth starts to poke its way through her gum she is inconsolable and sits on the floor screaming like someone stole the Oompa Loompa she had on layaway.

Another woman was in on our conversation, but she doesn’t have kids, and she asked if it was really that bad. And I held out my arms to signify hours and hours and hours of bad. And she was like, wouldn’t that be kind of fun, though? To have permission to sit in the floor and just scream all day long? And I could totally see where she was coming from, and wanted to extend that to having someone feed me grapes and wipe my bottom while cooing.

But then I thought about it for a second, and I don’t think I could sustain a scream for that long. Even though I work out every day, I think I could maybe make it five minutes. Maybe. Think about the stamina it would take to scream for over and hour. And then think about how boring and monotonous it would get. Unless you’re into death metal, then I guess it would be a total party.

Is that what I’m raising? Someone who is going to grow up and growl lyrics about violence and Satanism and necrophilia? Because I think my dad would prefer she turn out that way rather than vote for a Democrat.

There’s hope yet, Dad!

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