Seeing all my
young nieces and nephews from various sides of the family once again brings to
the fore my fears about having children at an advanced age. Let me get one
thing out of the way before I go any further: I do realize I would not be the
one actually having the baby. I mention this because every time I bring up this
anxiety to people they say, "What do you care? You wouldn't be the one having
the baby."
I think this
kind of remark is the height of insensitivity. Although I would not be the one
physically giving birth to the child, I would certainly be involved. When my
wife Barbara drives us in the car, for example, I am involved in the motoring
process as a passenger, gasping at close calls and giving the finger to other
drivers. We're a team. If Barbara said, "I'm going to have a baby now," I
wouldn't just raise a hand and say, "I don't want to hear about it. That's not
my business." I would say, "Well, Barbara, how may I be of help at this time?
Shall I plug in the heating pad?" So enough of the insensitivity already.
My fears of
having a baby at an advanced age also don't include things like 2:00 am feedings, or being woken up by
crying. How is that worse than staring at the bedroom ceiling at 2:00 am, as I often do now? You might as well
cart an infant around the room as I lie there trying to think of all the
actors' names in Mission: Impossible or Room 222. And I'm certainly not queasy
about changing diapers, considering my medical knowledge of the workings of our
friend the colon and the entire gastrointestinal system. When you're a
scientist like me you have an analytical attitude toward such matters.
No, my fears are
focused on the child's developmental years, adolescence and beyond. At the rate
I'm going, I'll be in my fifties by the time the child gets in nursery school.
I'm looking forward to the nursery school superintendent asking me, "Will you
be accompanying your granddaughter to school every day?" And my daughter
smacking herself on the forehead and saying, "I knew this would happen. This guy's older than Moses."
When my child is
in elementary school and bringing home his or her little friends, what will
they make of me? "Is that your
daddy?" they'll say. Their daddies will be working out in the yard in their
plaid shirts and jeans and I'll be lying in front of the TV in my underwear and
black socks and slippers. Their daddies will be taking them to Chuck E. Cheese
while I'll be watching TV documentaries I've seen a hundred times about the
last days of Hitler and the JFK assassination. And I'll attempt to talk my child
out of wanting to go to places like Cedar Point or Disney World, selling food
as a substitute. "How about some of my great scrambled eggs? Hah? How about
some nice tuna salad?"
When my child is
in his or her teens and rebelling, I'll be ill equipped to handle it. "I'm
walking out, man, I am tired of this bulls---!"
I'm not sure how I'll respond. As an old guy with eyes glued to the set I'll
probably say something like, "Fine, fine, but first look at this. They're
closing in on Oswald." The whole thing will make the James Dean-Jim Backus
relationship in Rebel Without A Cause
look like a tea party.
And of course
I'll be on Social Security with a child in college. All my daughter's friends
will be talking about how I broke my hip helping her move her stuff into the
dorm. "He's still in the infirmary," they'll whisper. "They're afraid to move
him. She has to take him lime Jell-O every night." I'll be the only father
sitting in a chair covered with a wool blanket at commencement.
Grandchildren?
That's a good one.
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Quirkee Voices 
(0 vote)
