I have no idea why I never published the following back in October. My guess is I was being critical of my writing. Well, here it is now with a few edits:
Only a few days ago I logged in another full year of life. My dad, in his dad ways, dad tone and dad corniness made the comment,"You're catching up to me in age!". Then I realized that someday I'd be that dad making that dad-esque comment to my child, with my child then rolling their eyes and thinking,"I'll never be that corny when I'm his age!".
Every time I dare think about how I'm at a period in my life when pacifiers should be drying in the dish rack, I start thinking about the things I want to do before that becomes reality. No, I'm not scared (not terrified either), I don't hate kids, I just know the same facts spat out from every parent I've talked to about being parent.
This weekend I'll be helping out at a Haunted Trail. That is to say I'll be daunting torn up clothing, splattering myself with fake blood and scaring the bajeezes out of the following: selfish, text-messaging teens, drunken parents (yes, nothing like a half-lit adult around kids!), fried potheads, too-cool-for-school thugs, and of course the poor little ones that get drug along the trail kicking and screaming from the get-go. It's almost therapeutic. "Take that: guy who probably cut me off the other day! the woman who wouldn't just pay for her damn groceries! the child who just had to touch everything in Target!".
So the way I see it, if I do have children in the near future this trail might just be my outlet. Or I'll just randomly pull out a ghoul mask in the grocery store on a random day of a random month.