Fatherhood

Lately I've been reading Dooce. I really don't know why I'm reading it, seeing as it is a blog written by a mother about raising a child. It is freaking hilarious, and as much as I can be sure about any complete stranger, I think I would get along with the lady who writes it. Because I have been reading it, I have thought about parenthood (God forbid it happen to me anytime soon.) I really don't think anyone really knows what it is about when they get into it, no matter how many books you read. It seems like the ultimate play as you go scenario (which makes me happy, because that is how I run my life.) After all, small children are basically little animals, slightly less furry puppies. Try to plan it as much as you want, but after they poop in the middle of the living room for the 8th time, all of those promises to not eat your young just go flying out the window. I'm pretty infant mortality rate was what it was because parents could get away with it back then, not because everything was dirty and unsanitary. Mmm, small child stew. Well, enough of my eligibility to be a father.
While I was on Exodus, I bought a knife. Yes, let me pause.... a pointy sharp object. In my hands. So I was trying to cut open a package with a minicard. One of those impossible plastic containers. And I cut the tip of my thumb off. So now, not only is the tip of my thumb coolly lopsided, but I can't feel anything, making picking up small objects neigh impossible. I know, I know. I should never have sharp objects.
At lastly, we started the fun part of our training. On Friday, we did injections. With needles. It was AWESOME. I was with a guy named Kettler. His went smoothly. Mine went great except for the very first part. I went to stick him in the upper arm, and his muscle spaszed out. And that freaked me out. Not good. But I calmly extracted the needle and did it with the next needle. And the rest of it went smoothly. Now on to IVs and further opportunities to thrust sharp objects into people's flesh. Hurrah.
--Andy