A writer here in Portland received the following message on his answering machine from his goddaughter/niece:
"Uncle Marc, it's Amy. I'm calling to find out why do bad things happen. Why do people get sick or have accidents? Or why do they fall in love with you when you don't love them back? And why is the oil on the ground rainbow-colored even when the sun doesn't hit it?"
I forgot to mention: the neice is six.
I. am. terrified.
If/when I can stomach the full leap into parenthood, I suppose I'll have to find some good godparent-types out in the world upon whom, along with Uncles Z and J, I can foist all the hard existential, metaphysical and otherwise unanswerable questions upon, as they inevitably come spilling forth from my child's mouth.
Until then, I quake in fear.*
*I suppose quake is a tiny bit melodramatic. I quiver, how about that? Tremble? Shudder?
"Uncle Marc, it's Amy. I'm calling to find out why do bad things happen. Why do people get sick or have accidents? Or why do they fall in love with you when you don't love them back? And why is the oil on the ground rainbow-colored even when the sun doesn't hit it?"
I forgot to mention: the neice is six.
I. am. terrified.
If/when I can stomach the full leap into parenthood, I suppose I'll have to find some good godparent-types out in the world upon whom, along with Uncles Z and J, I can foist all the hard existential, metaphysical and otherwise unanswerable questions upon, as they inevitably come spilling forth from my child's mouth.
Until then, I quake in fear.*
*I suppose quake is a tiny bit melodramatic. I quiver, how about that? Tremble? Shudder?
3 comments:
Don't be a wuss. I imagine that to be the most fun part of being a parent, or would you rather change diapers for 18 years?
Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a volunteer! Thank you, future Uncle Zacha-ey.
Can I just say this gets no less terrifying once you actually have one? I plan on lying a lot.
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