Notably, I have yet to read Huxley's exemplary book, so you will forgive the cliched reference.
However, with each passing day there is mounting levels of uncertainty about and unpreparedness for the future. Since word of T-Rex's imminent arrival hit the newsmedia, I suddenly find myself concerned with a whole array of things to which I heretofore never would have given any such thought. Top of the list: international affairs. If there is going to be unprecedented and unchecked nuclear proliferation, I'd like to know now, please. That, and when is it OK to give a child chilli. And feeding, and diapers, and sleeping, and not raising a rascal.
Now I know what you must be thinking, you experienced parents: Do not worry about much of that stuff, you'll figure it out. I should point out that a good many experienced fathers have explained to me that the mother's somehow automatically know what to do, which is a good thing since I have yet to apply myself to learning anything.
Mostly, I just want to know exactly where I will need to park the car at the hospital when the time comes, and I'll be good. Don't make fun of my neurosis. Just tell me where to park the car.
Beyond that, I have decided simply to operate with sheer bravado. I will pretend that I know what I am doing at all times. Moreover, I will pretend that whatever I am doing at any particular moment as a parent is exactly the right thing. Chilli be damned.
Hopefully doing that, and loving the child with utter desperation will work.
Best,
Rob
