Life of Hardin Vol. IV, No. 21

Paternal Instincts

Before anything else, I should say that I love my niece. She is cute, funny, smart, imaginative, sweet, thoughtful, well-mannered, and for a two-year-old has a minimum of bad behavior. I must say this because I have been her babysitter for three days, and though I love being an uncle, I pray that I never become a father.

It is possible that this comes simply from some character fault on my part. But I doubt it. After this I can understand how people become parents. From the outside looking in it appears to be both fun and fulfilling. It is a natural instinct to want a child. What I cannot understand is how people ever become parents for a second time. After the first one, when do they even find the time to conceive a second child? I haven’t had time for one thing other than watching the one little girl who isn’t even mine. Even the bathroom isn’t sacred. I have locked myself in on more than one occasion, hoping for a respite, only to hear a knock at the door and a still, small voice ask, “Whaya doin’, Dosh?”

How does anyone have time to get anything done at all? I have not had more than one hour total time to myself in the past 72 hours. That includes sleep time. I must sleep now with a stuffed bunny and two feet in my face. If I am absent for five minutes at any point, something will be broken, torn, discolored, missing, or injured. If I make an unexpected move, the still, small voice asks me, “Whereya goin’, Dosh?” And I obediently sit and sing another chorus of “Let’s Go Fly a Kite.”

The more difficult question to answer is not how, but why? Why, after a taste of one, would people have two? Or more? Three days and all thoughts of an outside world are gone. World War III could begin and end, and I would have no inkling of the fact because I was too busy keeping sippy cups refilled with juice. How is anyone capable of any sort of imaginative thought? I have no thoughts in my head except, “Don’t. Stop. Wait. Come here. Go to sleep. One more bite.” Ad infinitum. It is a marvel to me that we as a society have become as technologically advanced as we are while having children at the rate we do.

I have been told before I would make a good father. I believe this theory to be proven as ludicrous as the flatness of the world and the sun’s circling of the earth. I am constantly outsmarted by a two-year-old. Any time I give an order that is not liked, she simply changes the subject and says, “I gotta go pee-pee in the potty.” I cannot ignore that. It may be a lie. I know that it is in all probability a lie. Yet if there is any chance, I must keep the child from wetting her pants. When I take her to the bathroom, I become completely useless. I can get her on the pot, but I cannot get her off the pot and cleaned. I cannot handle it. I am rendered null and void by my inability to wipe another person. NOT father material.

I love my niece. She brings joy to my life and the lives of those around her. I would not trade her for anything in the world. And yet after three days, when she returned to the care of her parents, I looked at my wife through bloodshot eyes and said, “Remember, when they’re ours, we can’t take them back.”