Sometimes--often--okay, pretty much every day, I'm estatic at our decision to remain childless. I'm pretty sure having small people around that depend on me for food, shelter and spiritual guidance would disrupt that whole, "Me, Universe, Center" thing I've got going on.
But I can't help but sometimes think what a great dad Blair would have been. Here are just a couple classic Blair-isms from our time at the beach:
- We're walking on the beach, looking for shells, examining washed up horseshoe crabs, when we come to this big brown blob, about the size of football helmet. It looks like a cross between a circle of wood and a fossilized horseshoe crab shell. "What is that?" I ask Blair. "Whale poop," he says confidently.
- Different morning, again strolling the beach. I gesture at the packed sand two feet to our right and two feet to our left. "Why is that part of the beach all smooth and this part is all lumpy and wrinkly?" I ask. Blair: "That part of the beach is older."
Great dad stuff, no?
Then of course, there are the treasures he saves just for me. Yesterday we found Blair a great pair of flip-flops. Today as we walked down to the beach, I once again exclaimed, "I love those shoes!"
"I didn't realize you hated my other ones so much," said Blair.
"I didn't realize I did until we got you these new ones," I said.
"Well sugar, you have to learn to not hold your opinons back and communicate with me. We can't move forward unless you're willing to tell me what you're thinking."
I opened my mouth to protest that I do share my opinoins, when I realized the comment was dripping with sarcasm.
"Ha ha," I said.
If this CPA thing doesn't work out, I take comfort in the fact that my husband should have no trouble finding work as a stand-up comedian.