"Well, son, you see your mom and I, we made you in Maui. What I mean to say is, well, um, that's where we were when, um, well. Let me think. Yeah, never mind."
Okay, maybe not your little kid, but your teenager....
"You know son, your mom and I were in Maui when you were conceived."
"WAAA? Ah, gross Dad. Don't ever talk to me again!"
Okay, so they might have to wait until the kid is an adult...
"You want to hear something funny, son?"
"Dad, if it's about your sex life, please spare me."
Well, Ryan and I think it's a great story, even if the kid will never appreciate it. We were on vacation with Mark and Jenny when, with a twinkle and a poof of fairy dust, the little guy came to be. It was a great vacation...lounging on beaches, diving and snorkeling, and jumping off of huge waterfalls. The baby was like a door prize or a jackpot on the airport slot machine. Super bonus package to take home.
Now, Mo is at the charming age of 7 months. The four of us got to spend the weekend with their new little family a couple of weeks ago. Babies are awesome, especially when they live at someone else's house. They are so curious, and even I can make them laugh. What irritates me about Mo though, is that he doesn't like me much. To add insult to injury, he DOES like Ryan. Now how is that possible? I am the baby lover, the coddling, bouncing, change-your-diaper, clean-your-puke one, while Ryan prefers to stare at a baby from
afar, or, if necessary, give it a quick pat on the head.Not Mo. We were babysitting while Mark and Jenny were out riding, and Mo woke up from his nap. I saved him, rescued him from his baby prison, bounced and coddled him...and he cried. Ryan said, "Give him to me," took Mo under his arm like a football, and off they went like two of the three musketeers. I still haven't lifted my jaw off of the floor.
But I know some day he'll come around. Or maybe not. Ryan and Mark will have him on a motorcycle as soon as he can walk...and then I've lost him for good.
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