I think I’d be a great parent.
What does a little baby want? Its parents to spend time with it, comfort it, play with it. I mean this is a no-brainer, almost nothing can bring you more joy. I saw an ad the other day for a baby toy subscription; it was featuring some toy where a ball comes out of a hole to the left, then the baby puts it back in and it comes out to the right. Immediately, I’m like ‘ambidextrousness’. That’s how my little boy makes varsity baseball and/or basketball. We’ll start training him on the 1 lb weights when he’s 4 or 5 so he can play football too. And a girl? How about princess tea parties and dance sessions to whatever pop star is in? Count me in!
When they get older, I won’t be very important, but I know this already. They won’t remember those times as a baby putting the ball in the hole; it’ll be whatever influencer or person they like at school that’ll dictate whatever their interests are. It’s fucking sad. Really fucking sad. But that’s how it is. I’ll still be their parent. Always there for them whenever they need me.
Someday, when we’re all much older, they’ll come back to visit, and we can have conversations Ive been waiting 30-40 years to have. They won’t understand my wait, not until they experience it with their own kids. It’ll be the first time we speak truly as equals. And I’ll be old, and my body will hurt. But then, randomly, in the middle of a card game or something else that becomes so trivial so fast, my grandchild will come sit on my lap and ask me for a sip of my coke, and I’ll remember how beautiful the cycle of life is.