There are a lot of things you start to notice when a kid’s on the way. Like how expensive everything is. Or how certain animals are made to be gender specific on baby stuff.* Or how much more terrifying absolutely everything is.
*For the record—monkeys, dogs, and turtles are boys; cats, elephants, and giraffes are girls. I don’t think I want to try understanding the logic of the baby marketing geniuses. Of course, adding a bow or a baseball bat can change gender.
But the last couple days, I’ve been noticing a lot about where we live and the kind of environment we want to raise Squatch. Maybe more specifically would be this:
Winter is awesome as a kid. Snow, sledding, all that other Norman Rockwell crap. Winter was probably my favorite time of year growing up. Kansas didn’t always get a lot of snow when I was younger, but it always got some—and the last couple years were practically Snowmageddon. We always got quite a bit when I lived in Iowa and Minnesota, and to me, those are the kinds of winters you can enjoy. This year is weird even for the Okies here, but I’ve been told they still don’t get much in the way of winter weather, which makes me remember why I never wanted to move south before.* I can see myself in a few years having to explain basic principles to Squatch. “Sure that’s snow, Squatch, but in some places, enough falls that you can gather it up into a little ball and throw it at people. And if it’s that mean kid at school who keeps picking on you, then you can put a rock inside it.”** It makes me a little sad to consider my kid growing up without winter. This isn’t natural.
*If you think winter’s bad. Wait till summer. Yeesh.
**Don’t go getting all worked up on me. It’s a joke. Rocks are just for family.
Sure, there’s other stuff to consider, like school systems and youth sports leagues and community activities to think about. There’s the available health care system. There’s the overall community atmosphere. And despite all those other things, the fact that I’ve been walking around in short sleeves for practically all of January seems to worry me more than everything else at the current time.
This probably makes me unqualified as a parent.* And the fact that all I can seem to do on this blog is bag on Oklahoma likely makes me a terrible blogger.** And that I’m blogging about weather probably means I’ve jumped the shark already. It was a fun ride while it lasted. Maybe the cancellation notice will come before I have to introduce the cute, precocious new kid in an attempt to boost ratings.
*Well, this is probably on the list, anyway.
I think this is the 1574th time over the last five months that I’ve asked, “What the hell did I get myself into?”