Monday, January 24, 2005
That Which Casts Serious Doubt on My (Potential) Parenting Skills
I am growing increasingly certain that I will be a dreadful parent. This is not to say that I'm expecting this most fantastic of life events to happen anytime soon, and judging from the looks of things in my life, I still have a while yet to go before parenthood actually befalls me. I know I have been making noises lately about wanting to parent a puppy or a kitten, but recent developments may suggest that it's best to hold out on even these more modest parental yens. You see, I have killed a house tree. I'm not certain if it's even proper to officially pronounce it dead while it still appears to have about a dozen die-hard leaves that stubbornly refuse to accept their fate and insist on maintaining some sort of semblance of the color green, but I think we're rapidly approaching the day of reckoning. I think it's best to be honest with ourselves about these sorts of things.
What's even more alarming is that the house tree's previous owner assured me that this particular specimen was the most hearty of house trees, a sure thing that I would most certainly live to see grow and mature. Well, my friends, this is not to be.
It turns out that the Fat Asian Baby is a far more neglectful parent and undeserving of the sort of parental satisfaction that comes from seeing our love and affection sprout robust and thriving life than the previous owner. Yes folks, it seems I have nearly killed a plant so hale that even a bachelor surgical resident, who was presumably, you know, like, busy and stuff, was able to make flourish and live happily for years.
I can only hope that when I'm a real parent, I won't forget to bring my child with me when I leave for a month-long vacations. It turns out even trees can't sustain that kind of neglect.
What's even more alarming is that the house tree's previous owner assured me that this particular specimen was the most hearty of house trees, a sure thing that I would most certainly live to see grow and mature. Well, my friends, this is not to be.
It turns out that the Fat Asian Baby is a far more neglectful parent and undeserving of the sort of parental satisfaction that comes from seeing our love and affection sprout robust and thriving life than the previous owner. Yes folks, it seems I have nearly killed a plant so hale that even a bachelor surgical resident, who was presumably, you know, like, busy and stuff, was able to make flourish and live happily for years.
I can only hope that when I'm a real parent, I won't forget to bring my child with me when I leave for a month-long vacations. It turns out even trees can't sustain that kind of neglect.
