Sarah's gonna have the sweet, little baby any day now. Mike's happy. And I'm happy too. It'll be awesome. Sarah's mom and grandma are driving up this coming Monday. We'll get to bond together. 
And we'll all get to feed and change and hold the baby. I can sing Dylan tunes to him as a lullaby. I've been helping Mike and Sarah by simulating all the different childhood phases. I've thrown tantrums and shit my pants. I've rolled my eyes and muttered about them under my breath. I've shown my ass at the supper table. I even ran away from home a couple of times. I didn't get very far.
I hope Mike's kid is just like he was. Payback for being such a ratbastard when he was little.
We used to live in New Mexico a long time ago. Early 80s. Albuquerque. Anyway. This happened when Mike was five years old. I was out grocery shopping at the commisary with mom. Like a good little boy. Mike and Sam were at the house with dad. The Mookster hadn't spawned just yet. Anywho. Mike wanted to go for a walk. Dad was changing Sam's diaper. He told Mike to hold on for a second while he got Sam dressed. Mike said okay and left the room. It was the dead of winter so dad had to bundle Sam up. Dad finished up and carried him into the living room. Time to walk. But Mike was nowhere to be found.
The front door was wide open. Mike had left without them. Dad ran outside. No Mike. Dad and Sam beat feet up and down the block looking for Mike's ass. No luck. So they headed home. Pretty soon a police cruiser pulled up to the house. And there was Mike in the backseat. In his underwear. Smiling and waving.
Mike was wandering the streets a half-mile away. The cops picked him up and Mike knew the address so there you go. Dad was plenty pissed. The cops walked Mike up to the door and gave Dad a lecture. Dad thanked them, closed the door, and wore Mike's ass out.
Dad left to find Sam. Mike was sniffling and crying. He picked up the phone and dialed the New Mexico child abuse hotline. I shit you not. He told them his name, address, age, and all that shit. I'm five years old and my Dad just hit me. That kind of thing. Dad walked in and caught him mid-conversation. So Dad jerked the phone out of his hand and whipped his ass. Who knows if the folks on the other end heard the beating. I hope they did. Dad hung up the phone and left the room again. He hadn't gone very far when he heard the beep-boop of the phone. Mike called them back. He said, "He just did it again!". I don't know if Dad whipped him again. He probably should have.
Three people from the state of New Mexico family services went to see my Dad at work the next week. They lectured him again and threatened to take Mike, Sam, and I away. Dad probably said, "Go ahead. Make my day".
Mike also climbed out through the sunroof of our car once. We were on a bridge over the Pearl River and Mike wanted to swim. Dad happened to look back and grab one of his legs just in time. Mike was a rascal. Okay. Time to get back to it. byebye
And we'll all get to feed and change and hold the baby. I can sing Dylan tunes to him as a lullaby. I've been helping Mike and Sarah by simulating all the different childhood phases. I've thrown tantrums and shit my pants. I've rolled my eyes and muttered about them under my breath. I've shown my ass at the supper table. I even ran away from home a couple of times. I didn't get very far.
I hope Mike's kid is just like he was. Payback for being such a ratbastard when he was little.
We used to live in New Mexico a long time ago. Early 80s. Albuquerque. Anyway. This happened when Mike was five years old. I was out grocery shopping at the commisary with mom. Like a good little boy. Mike and Sam were at the house with dad. The Mookster hadn't spawned just yet. Anywho. Mike wanted to go for a walk. Dad was changing Sam's diaper. He told Mike to hold on for a second while he got Sam dressed. Mike said okay and left the room. It was the dead of winter so dad had to bundle Sam up. Dad finished up and carried him into the living room. Time to walk. But Mike was nowhere to be found.
The front door was wide open. Mike had left without them. Dad ran outside. No Mike. Dad and Sam beat feet up and down the block looking for Mike's ass. No luck. So they headed home. Pretty soon a police cruiser pulled up to the house. And there was Mike in the backseat. In his underwear. Smiling and waving.
Mike was wandering the streets a half-mile away. The cops picked him up and Mike knew the address so there you go. Dad was plenty pissed. The cops walked Mike up to the door and gave Dad a lecture. Dad thanked them, closed the door, and wore Mike's ass out.
Dad left to find Sam. Mike was sniffling and crying. He picked up the phone and dialed the New Mexico child abuse hotline. I shit you not. He told them his name, address, age, and all that shit. I'm five years old and my Dad just hit me. That kind of thing. Dad walked in and caught him mid-conversation. So Dad jerked the phone out of his hand and whipped his ass. Who knows if the folks on the other end heard the beating. I hope they did. Dad hung up the phone and left the room again. He hadn't gone very far when he heard the beep-boop of the phone. Mike called them back. He said, "He just did it again!". I don't know if Dad whipped him again. He probably should have.
Three people from the state of New Mexico family services went to see my Dad at work the next week. They lectured him again and threatened to take Mike, Sam, and I away. Dad probably said, "Go ahead. Make my day".
Mike also climbed out through the sunroof of our car once. We were on a bridge over the Pearl River and Mike wanted to swim. Dad happened to look back and grab one of his legs just in time. Mike was a rascal. Okay. Time to get back to it. byebye