Cursed Tongue: Love That New Baby Spit-up Smell

Posted by CursedTongue on November 20, 2006

About a year ago my younger brother, Twerp, and my sister-in-law called with news of a major purchase. They bought a 2005 four-door V8 truck with leather interior and all of the upgrades. Now this was no surprise. Twerp has had a love affair with automobiles that began long before he realized driving a Hotwheels car on my head would tangle my hair up around the axles, necessitating removal by haircut. So, never mind that he has an immobile muscle car languishing in the garage. Obviously he needed a new Dodge Ram.

A month after the announcement of their major purchase, I hear from my parents that Twerp and Mrs. Twerp revealed their intentions of starting a family. The Dodge Ram, with its five seats, was envisioned as the family vehicle, as improbable as that sounds to me. But then, I don’t understand the stigma attached to owning a minivan.

My father’s response to the news was the perennial and ever popular, “I don’t know why any one would want to bring children into this world.” I’m sure people have been saying this since speech began. And people still bring children into this world, and then sure enough the big old scary world gets even worse. Or, at least, the nostalgia waxers would have us believe that it’s gotten worse. (I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t trade this time for one before penicillin, and seedless grapes).

My response to him was that “breeders” are just planning ahead. By overpopulating the world they are helping insure the survival of the human race during the inevitable reign of robot overlords.

Of course, when they announced the impending birth of Rodney, my father was thrilled. (I wasn’t worried, but I was still kind of glad that the other source of grandchildren in the family tested that theory.)

Except for providing the guinea pig grandchildren, I was concerned about Twerp’s plans to start a family. The thought of my brother procreating frightens me, and it’s not just the childhood trauma of being terrorized by that slobbering, curly-blond certain. Okay, that is it.

Twerp is the proud owner of some seven different video game systems. I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was not allowed to have a game system when he was younger, even though he saved enough allowance to buy one himself. I worry about Rodney’s future in a rickety IKEA crib when Twerp drooled as he talked about buying the PlayStation 3. With the $600 he would spend on the PlayStation 3, he could buy two cribs.

I’m also worried about the fact that Twerp is having a baby first. The only chance my kids had against his little hooligan, Rodney, was to be older. In the future, family get-togethers will be peppered with cries protesting wet willies, mockery, teasing and thumpings. The shenanigans will probably culminate in a game of “I’m not touching you.”

My husband and I are both what I like to call “readers.” Twerp would call us nerds. It’s extremely likely that any child my husband and I have will possess the reflexes of a porcupine and the visual acuity of a fruit bat. Younger cousins already get plenty of grief without being nerds who will naturally attract wedgies and repeated punches to the upper arm. I can’t risk damage to any of the brain cells of our nerd baby whose future success is an integral part of our retirement plan.

Now that the Twerps are actually having a baby, I’m looking forward to being an Auntie. I have an excuse to look at wee sweet baby clothes. Nieces and nephews are all of the fun of having a child without any of the clean up. I can’t wait to have someone to send a set of toy emergency vehicles with lifelike sirens to. And I can’t wait for the day that Rodney vomits formula on their leather interior.

- Sarah Letnes

Filed Under: Cursed Tongue, Guest Blog - Comments: Be the First to Comment

Tags: babies, children, family, humor

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