My son is perfect. He’s super cute, he’s a total genius, he says “thank you,” and he has a killer long ‘do.
I mean, I know he’s not actually perfect, but he’s perfect to me. And while I never expected the rumors to be true, that this is how I would feel about my child once I became a father, they 100% are: I LOVE MY SON AND I DON’T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!
It’s too bad I’ll eventually hate his guts.
I wrote a post a ways back, pre-baby, entitled “What If I Hate My Kid?” It was a stupid question, for two contradictory reasons: 1) When he arrived it became impossible to imagine – even when he’s being an annoying, screaming, impatient, selfish little shit – that I would ever hate him. 2) There’s no “if” to it.
I know FOR A FACT that I will eventually hate my son. I am going to hate him SO FUCKING MUCH.
No, I don’t have a time machine (YET!); I just remember myself when I was a teenager. And when I do get my time machine, I’m gonna go back and kick my ass.
That earlier post was about my son potentially having a terrible personality, but even if that’s the case, that wouldn’t cause me to hate him the way I know I’m going to. Because his personality doesn’t matter. A kid’s personality, good or bad, offers no quarter from the hell that is being a teenager.
Nothing will prevent my son becoming an asshole – the best I can hope for is that his Asshole Period is a short one – that he adjusts more quickly than most. I am pretty sure I was an unbearable piece of shit from 14 to 17, and that might be an understatement.
I’ll always love my son. Again, more than I realized. But that’s not gonna stop me from weathering his development with varying levels of discomfort and annoyance, particularly when he’s a teen. I mean, he’ll probably be pretty ugly during that time too. Not even a supercool long ‘do can shield the world from the hideous visage of a child in the throes of puberty. I mean, even Rudy Huxtable turned uggo for a spell. What chance does my kid have?
After all, I still hate other people’s kids, and once a kid becomes a teenager he essentially is becomes another person’s kid, to everyone, including me and Mom and Buried. So I’m just steeling myself for that eventuality.
I didn’t expect to be blindsided by my affection for him but you better believe I’ll be ready for the hatred I’ll feel during his teenage years. And for the disappointment of his 20s. Then, when he enters his 30s and comes out the other side, we should be ready to have a nice, pleasant relationship based on mutual love and respect.
Unless he calcifies into a total douchebag. Then all bets are off.