A Childhood Story

I got my hair did yesterday (exciting huh?), and my hairdresser is a very petite almost toxically sweet woman. We were engaging in small talk and exchanging updates as is common when you go to the salon, when I mentioned that my wedding is 60 days away. She did the whole obligatory "Ooooh mmmy goooodness!! How exciiiiittting! Wooooowwww. 60 daaays awaaaay!" (imagine that in the most airy, sweet and completely genuine tone you can). Then she proceeded to follow up with the question "So how long will you wait till you have kids".

Me: Oh, I don't know. Maybe four or five years. I'm only 25 you know.
Her: Oooohh. Reaallly? That's interesting. You usually hear most people say 6 months to a year.

Did she just insinuate that I should be starting a family in 6 months?!? Because I don't know about "most people", but this girl doesn't have the emotional, physical, economical, organizational (you see where I'm going right?), or psychological fortitude to raise a child just yet. Especially the breed of child Wes and I are destined to have. Should I elaborate? Ok, here's the dog food story:

I was a very energetic child, or as my mom would say "Jocelyn was high spirited". As a byproduct of this, I would spend most of my time outside, exploring our backyard, picking flowers from the neighbors' yards and playing on the railroad tracks. There was so much to be discovered outside with all the bushes, berries and bugs that my imagination was constantly churning. I would create stories about being in the wilderness, surrounded by giant mutated bugs, having to survive by foraging for food in the jungle and climbing trees to stay out of the hidden quicksand. You can imagine the strain playing outside for hours on end can put on a child, so picture my delight when I discovered a giant aluminum can full of snacks that my parents had left out in the yard. Now when my sister or I wanted to take a break from all the serious playing, we could wander over to the snack bin and grab ourselves a handful of the salty, crunchy treats. These snacks could easily last us weeks (it was a large aluminum trash can), and it probably took that long before my parents realized what we were up to.

And for this last part, there is video evidence:

Scene: The backyard.
Characters: Jocelyn and Paige (age 3 and 4 respectively), and Dad with a video camera.

Dad: Jocelyn, what are you eating?
Me: Dog food.
Dad: You're eating what?
Me: Dog food.
Dad: Paige, what are you eating?
Paige: Dog food.

(Our father's discovery and subsequent questioning has not deterred our munching)

Dad: Where did you get that?
Me: Right here in the bin.
Dad: How does it taste?
Me: Salty.
Dad: Salty?
Me: And crunchy.
Dad: Do you like dog food?
Me: Mmmmmm.
Dad: Paige, do you like dog food?
Paige: Mmmmmm.
Dad: So you both like dog food?
Me & Paige: Mmmmmm.

And this, my friends, is why I am scared to have children.

The End.