Introducing Ryan Kevin Gensey, Aaron’s new baby boy, delivered right on the projected date. I bought him the turtle you see in the corner of his basket there.

I had the chance to hold him before he was a day old in the hospital. At first, I approached this idea with some trepidation, seeing as how I carry the preconceived notion of how fragile baby’s necks are, but I couldn’t resist. He’s a lot lighter than Dolly, but somehow just as warm.

Aaron has always wanted a boy first and a girl second — so the older brother can take care of the younger sister — and it looks like everything is falling into the plan.

I’m now officially an uncle.

It’s Friday. Pizza day. At Louise’s house, the parents don’t feel like cooking, and the kids get a treat.

The slices are out. The salad’s in the serving bowl. Everyone has an accommodating fork, napkin, and slice. I see Eric move a hand to his face in the corner of my eye, and assume that he’s started eating.

As the guest, this means I’m allowed to eat too. I take a bite out of my slice, but before I can even chew, I realize that Eric was just scratching his beard. With a smile on his face, he says “Don’t forget about grace, Jeff”.

It’s a double whammy.

It reminded me of something that happened when I was a teenager. Matt was over. Pizza night. As the guest, Matt got the first slice. He waited while the rest were being handed out, but my dad, without any sense of formality, took a bite as soon as he had one. Neither of my parents noticed, but there was a startled look on Matt’s face. He quickly closed his eyes, held a fist to his face (not a clenched one, but as if holding the beads of a Rosary), and said a prayer in his head.

I always imagined that it went, “ThankyouGodforthispizzaandformygracioushosts”, because he was done so quickly.

It made me wonder, what was in that look? What do those who ask thanks of their meal think of those who don’t? What do Christians think of those who don’t say grace? What do Muslims think of those who don’t fast? Are we unappreciative? Do we take our food for granted?

Eric’s tone is kind though, not condescending or judgmental, as if to say, “We only ask you to do this for the sake of our kids”.

Louise asks Sarah if she’d like to say grace. She sings a song that bears a striking — excuse the pun — resemblance to the melody of the Westminster quarters (along with choreography).

Hark to the chimes (arms held upwards and open)
Come bow your head (hands together in prayer)
We thank thee lord (arms upward again)
For this good bread (hands together again)

But as a seven-year-old, Sarah doesn’t know the right words. She says “heart” instead of “hark”. “You” instead of “thee”.

No one mentions it though. Not everyone is perfect. One can be forgiven.

Even me, I hope.

I also dressed down, and stole a drink from work. Two of my best friends finally met each other. They got along famously, better than any of my other friends in the past. I supported one on the biggest decision of his life. The other told me that I had always been her hopeful out of the round of interviews for my job, over a chicken sandwich and some onion rings. I learned the four Cs of diamond appraisal, and saw a carbon spec through a loupe for the first time.

I met two cats; one rolled into my lap while playing Double Dash with the best kids in the world. A family inspired me, and I dared to dream of some day having my own.

I had the pleasure of taking care of Nala while Trolley and Wheaties were home for the long weekend. She greeted me with loud protestations, angry that her caretaker had left her alone in the house for two days so far. Alas, it was only me who had arrived, a stranger she hadn’t gotten comfortable with yet. She followed me around at first, and watched as I filled up her food and water dishes. After a while she realized that I was the only one coming. “Where is my slave?”, she demanded, and ran off to sleep under the kitchen table.

I tried to talk to her, to let her know that her company would be back in two more days. I asked if she was alright, if she was bored or sleepy or energetic.

It felt…a little odd…to be so verbose with a cat. I consider myself to be a sane person. At the same time, I realize that cats cannot answer back. A strange little paradox.

I find myself in the same situation around children. When a kid asks me a question to which the answer is beyond his comprehension, I don’t know what to say. I become rather embarrassed that I’ve been placed in such a situation. Do I tell this child the truth, or do I give a saccharine answer? Do I attempt to shed some consciousness on a child’s life, or do I let him/her remain in a blissful childhood ignorance?

Any decision can be thought of in a bad way. I never know what to say, so I generally don’t answer back.

I still talk to Dolores though.

For there can be no judgement there.

I think Dolly may be interested in having another cat around the house. I’ve been playing some cat sounds, and no matter where she is in the apartment, she’ll coming running into my room. A second cat is something I only started to consider this term. Last term it felt as if I wouldn’t be able to handle the chores, let alone doubling my annual veterinarian bill. Sometimes she seems lonely though, like when she immediately starts to cry when I walk in the door after a day of school, her protesting only being soothed after picking her up, and being replaced by a low purr. I’ve always seen myself as a one cat person; I think I’d feel a little imbalanced if I had more than one. If I do decide to get one, it will definitely be after I graduate, definitely after I find a stable job, and possibly after I can purchase a condo. It would be more for Dolly than for me though. I can’t imagine finding another cat that is as well-adapted as she is, so the idea scares me a little.

One time I discussed with Pita whether he would ever consider getting two dogs. He said that he couldn’t, not just because it would be much harder to handle, but because he would feel more favourable to one or the other.

The idea of favour is one that I haven’t been able to understand. How can parents love all their kids without liking one more than the other, especially when one follows the desires of the parents more closely. It might be something I don’t understand, being an only child. If such a balance is possible, wouldn’t polygamous relationships work as well? I think part of the misunderstanding stems from my confusion of relational love and parental love as well.

For love is the root of my imbalance.

I just received (within 10 minutes) a one page letter denying my application to become a Big Brother. It greatly, greatly saddens me. I wish I knew why they decided this, but they aren’t at liberty to discuss it. I actually had to sign something acknowledging that if I was rejected, I wouldn’t know why, if the organization chose not to tell me.

I’ll always wonder why I was not allowed this opportunity. I thought I’d be good at it, but I’m sure that this committee of people know better than I. After all, I have little experience with younger people. I just wish someone could understand how much this would have meant to me.

I wonder if it could be my maturity. If it could be my time restraints. My relationship with my parents. My being a good hater. Could it be that they feel my motives are out of selfishness? Could it be that one of my references gave me a bad reputation? Or simply that I’m not the right kind of person for the job? I really have no idea, since I believe that I gave an extremely good impression at the interview.

I always believed that my experience with parenting would help me become a good parent myself. Many people whom I’ve spoken to believe this of me as well. Yet, the idea of having children of my own still scares me. It’s the idea that I am in control of someone else’s life, when I believe that my own life will always be full of entropy. What happens to my child if I ever got divorced? What happens if I ever died? So many uncertainties make the whole idea very frightening.

I also don’t believe I have the capacity to love in this manner. It’s not a paternal emotion that I have been able to develop or learn. I have my reasons.

The subject of kids has always been present in my relationships, and it’s usually been a source of conflict.

About three years ago I came upon a site called WebMD. It’s a pretty good resource for health issues, and psychology issues. One of their events was a chat session with a parenting expert, and I couldn’t help but try to ask a question that I had been asking myself at the time. The transcript can be found here (my name was jesterz_webmd).

At the time, I felt like her answer was quite unconventional.

Then again, I was only 19 on the time.