As I was playing with my friends’ 20-month old daughter yesterday, they remarked that I seemed to have a knack with kids. Yes I’m quite good with kids *ahem* but I’m usually best with just the one baby. Two would be my maximum. Anymore than that and I’m out of the room.
Though I must admit it was fun and satisfying seeing a baby smile and laugh at my simplest gestures. It was enlightening also to see that what may be trivial to adults can mean the world to an innocent child. It sure does put things in perspective.
Still, I don’t think myself quite at that stage yet – I’m not ready to procreate and I don’t know if I’ll ever be. It bugs me because I am meant to continue the family line – my dad was the first son, and I’m also the first son AND first grandson with the family name.
I know having a baby is serious business and that I should not have one for the wrong reasons. Nonetheless I feel responsible, and pressure even though my parents has never nagged me about it. My mom has nagged about marriage but neither her nor dad has ever thought to say to me, “You really ought to impregnate someone.”
At this point in time, I can’t even imagine sharing my bed permanently with someone so fatherhood is the furthest thought from my mind. Will I change? Should I change? Do I want to change?
Man, heavy thoughts. Where’s the beer?