I WANT ONE OF THOSE!
Tonight I found myself holding newborn twins (not at the same time -- I'm not that talented!) ... a boy and a girl. As I'm sitting there holding them, looking into their sweet faces, I found myself thinking "I WANT ONE OF THESE!"
But then reality struck ...
Reality #1 ... They poop ... at alarmingly massive rates, amounts, and concentrated odor levels, especially for something so little.
Reality #2 ... I could, and probably would, drop them. I drop a lot of things, you know.
Reality #3 ... They grow. That means they will get bigger; their cute little noises will get louder (and not so cute); and their attitudes have the potential to get uglier.
Reality #4 ... They must come out of a bodily orifice. That doesn't sound the least bit comfortable or pleasant.
Reality #5 ... They would rely on me to feed them -- see, this is a problem because I sometimes forget to check and see if my cat has food.
Reality #6 ... They must have a father -- preferably Mr. Wonderful. I've not met Mr. Wonderful. I've met Mr. So-So, Mr. Hell-Will-Freeze-Over-First, and Mr. Only-in-My-Dreams, but no Mr. Wonderful. I'm beginning to think he doesn't exist.
Reality #7 ... I'm bound to screw them up somehow. If not with the aforementioned ways, then there will be some other creative technique I will employ to completely mess with their little minds, rendering them non-functioning parts of society.
So, with these realities playing like a broken record over and over again in my head, I hand them over to the next person that wants to cuddle with them ... and sigh heavily.
But then reality struck ...
Reality #1 ... They poop ... at alarmingly massive rates, amounts, and concentrated odor levels, especially for something so little.
Reality #2 ... I could, and probably would, drop them. I drop a lot of things, you know.
Reality #3 ... They grow. That means they will get bigger; their cute little noises will get louder (and not so cute); and their attitudes have the potential to get uglier.
Reality #4 ... They must come out of a bodily orifice. That doesn't sound the least bit comfortable or pleasant.
Reality #5 ... They would rely on me to feed them -- see, this is a problem because I sometimes forget to check and see if my cat has food.
Reality #6 ... They must have a father -- preferably Mr. Wonderful. I've not met Mr. Wonderful. I've met Mr. So-So, Mr. Hell-Will-Freeze-Over-First, and Mr. Only-in-My-Dreams, but no Mr. Wonderful. I'm beginning to think he doesn't exist.
Reality #7 ... I'm bound to screw them up somehow. If not with the aforementioned ways, then there will be some other creative technique I will employ to completely mess with their little minds, rendering them non-functioning parts of society.
So, with these realities playing like a broken record over and over again in my head, I hand them over to the next person that wants to cuddle with them ... and sigh heavily.
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