Saying “I told you so!” is not nice.
It’s not gracious, it’s not kind, and it’s certainly not something people like to hear. But that doesn’t mean it’s not satisfying!
In related news: my brother is having a baby.
No one knows more about parenting than people who don’t have kids.
Fielding unsolicited advice from anyone about how to raise your kids is one of the most irritating crosses we parents have to bear, but most of the time, you can do your best to avoid those people. I spend a fair amount of time making it clear I don’t want to hear it. (But please, take mine!)
It’s a little bit harder when it’s your own family doling it out. But that’s what karma is for!
Yes, Uncle and Buried and his wife are expecting a child this spring, and about the only thing keeping me from dancing a fucking jig over this news is the fact that they’re having a girl. I wanted a girl, damnit!
(Obviously, the gender of their unborn child is not my brother’s fault – if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s his wife’s, since she has 300 sisters* – but that won’t stop me from blaming him for it. Because I’m out for REVENGE.)
To make matters worse, I have no experience with girls, which will make it harder for me to lord my superior (read: any) parenting skills over the happy and soon-to-be totally exhausted and, if they know what’s good for them, apologetic AF! couple.
I’m not going to sit here and list of all the times my as-of-yet childless brother has weighed in on how Mom and Buried and I should handle certain aspects of our kids’ behavior because, in all honesty, he hasn’t done it that much (only about his lovey, and his screen time, and his nutrition, and his friends, and where he sleeps, and the teams he roots for, and…). Also, I’m not that petty.
But I am petty enough to be excited for the next decade or so of his life, during which all the parenting-related chickens he dropped at my doorstep over the past eight years will be coming home to roost right on his stupid face!
Obviously I’m excited about Uncle and Buried’s impending foray into fatherhood for reasons other than spite. (Again, I’m not that big of an asshole.) For one, there’s the amusing comeuppance of someone who long prided himself on his independence (it was delicious to savor at his wedding, and it will be even more tasty when he’s chained to a screaming infant), the sobering realization that there is in fact something more important than the Yankees, and, last but not least, my own ability to segue into the far less stressful “fun uncle” role!
I am gonna get this kid SO DRUNK.
But mostly I’m excited about his inevitable realization that his younger brother was right all along (as usual) and that, like everyone else who goes from being an “expert” to becoming a parent, he had no idea what he was talking about.
Congrats, guys! This is gonna be fun! (For me. For you, it’s mostly gonna suck.)
*According to Mom and Buried, it IS my brother’s fault, as the gender genes come down from the dad. (She’s even more jealous than I am.)