New Dad: Not Sure If I Can Trust My Baby Boy, I Just Met The Guy
Imagine having a stranger move into your home after giving you 9-ish months advance notice that they would be invading your life. Now imagine this stranger causes you to feel an unmoving obligation to care for them. Now imagine you were a part of the reason they exist now and there is nothing you can do about it. Sounds terrifying, doesn’t it? Well, that’s the situation I’m going through right because my wife just gave birth to a 6lb 7oz human being that expects all of that from the both of us. But how am I supposed to trust somebody I just met?!
I don’t know anything about the guy, except that his name is Greg and that I fought for him to be named Maverick (a la John McCain) super hard but my wife wouldn’t budge and brought up a valid point that we both did agree on Greg whereas only I wanted Maverick. So that’s fair. But should you really trust someone with a name that you gave them? That sounds like a ploy a creep would use to lull you into a false sense of security because you felt some sort of ownership for and responsibility about them. Nice try, Greg.
It would be one thing if Greg was staying for a few days, or maybe a week, tops. But something just tells me he doesn’t plan on leaving for almost two decades, or maybe even never. I keep getting the sense that he’ll likely need our physical, emotional, and financial support until they day either of us kicks the bucket. The fact that a complete stranger is asking that of us is pretty messed up. I’d understand if it was one of my close friends, but even that would be a pretty big ask, and because I’m a cheapskate I’d probably say no. Being frugal is gonna be cool again, trust me.
Just thinking about where he came from makes me feel woozy. He started out as a microscopic tadpole (like a frog) and then somehow morphed into a human. What’s up with that? I’ve asked him repeatedly how he did it and he won’t tell me. All he does is fart or burp or crap in varying combinations. Sometimes he even falls asleep when I’m questioning him, like a friggin’ asshole. Doesn’t that seem both rude and sketchy? What’s his motive for not telling me? What’s he hiding? He’s got to be keeping something a secret. Probably something that’s dark and scary, like a spooky poop, but worse.
Trusting him seems like an impossibility. All he does is whine and cry and make me give him stuff and what do I get in return? The torture of another day tending to the whims of a tiny, toothless goblin? A mystery monster with no personality or sense of being who needs a seemingly endless supply of food, clothing, shelter, and baths? I don’t even want to think about the money he’s going to start asking me for when he gets old enough to understand what money is.
This really does seem pointless. I’m never going to trust him. His demands will never cease. He will lead me to an early grave. But I guess it’s no one’s fault but my own. And my wife’s. Yeah it’s definitely more her fault.
My advice: if you’re going to have a kid, at least get to know him first.