Gonna be a parent... again.

"That was a fun day."

I thought I was done with this. Not having kids, just caring for them. I have a boy. He's three and some months. He's doing just fine. He is almost potty-trained and can play by himself. He is a little genius who, in the grand scheme of things, can fill in the many, many blanks I leave for him as I am a busy parent (read: disengaged).

As I told you, I have another baby coming. The wife is twenty-four weeks in which means sixteen weeks to go. And then all the fun. The crying. The diapers. The middle of the night feedings. The lack of sleep. The responsibility. At least I'll get two weeks off work. Yippie.

I have often thought "who in the hell is allowing me to be in charge of another human being?" It just seems unrealistic. And possibly dangerous. For example, I watched my son stick a plug into an outlet with his hands around both metal ends and I took way too long stopping him from killing himself. It just didn't register for a second - like I was watching a movie. I did stop him, though.

Don't get me wrong, I am really happy. Having my son has been the single greatest experience of my life. He brings me such joy. And now I will have two of these little balls of goodness rolling around. I am having a girl and she's gonna be magic.