My youngest brother, Josh, will become a first time dad in the next day or so, convincing me more than ever that as I get older the sand passing through the hourglass is starting to resemble that of a sandstorm in the Sahara.
There is an eleven year difference between the two us and I can't help but still consider him as the strangely smart five year old I chauffeured around our small town. I was often irritated by his incessant chatter about G.I. Joe figurines and even more annoyed by his Rain-man like recitations of division facts, particularly as it threatened to drown out the reverberations of songs like "Word Up" blasting from the tape player in my car. (You try to put on those airs and act real cool, But you got to realize that you're acting like fools)
So now he's a real live adult about to enter the unpredictable world of fatherhood. I want to tell him how to best prepare and what to expect, but really, words alone can't accurately describe how:
... the minute a newborn arrives, your own wailing rivals that of your child.
...you leave the hospital FLABBERGASTED that personnel neglected to ask you if you knew what you were doing.
...you drive 15mph home from the hospital because you've never seen so many crazy, loony tune drivers out on the road before.
...you feel sympathetic towards other parents because their child is not nearly as beautiful as the alien-looking baby in your bassinet.
...you are overwhelmed with joy the first time your baby smiles, even if it is gas related.
...you understand why goggles are necessary when changing the diaper of an aimless, infant boy.
... you sleep with the baby monitor plastered to your ear, wondering why someone hasn't re-designed it as a headset.
Nope. I can't describe it to him. He'll understand soon enough.
Word up, Josh.