hallelujah

lu, of course, did not appreciate the pomp and circumstance paid to her birthday: the wine, the birthday merriment--i drew a line and did not get her a cake. i did play her the song for which she's named, and her favorite game of bitey/scratchy. she liked it, but she's two and these things happen every day.

my parents have, by and large, given up on their eldest child ever having children, and have regulated themselves to my nephew and to my cat. which was why they made such a big deal out of the party, and asked me to stay up here, in the Sota, to celebrate. most of my friends have made the leap to parenthood or are dialed into some form of raging coupledom, so perhaps this is as close to a win as i get in that regard.

i understand this time of life; i get the inevitable conclusion to have children, settle down, find somebody that makes you happy. i've always been the oldest, the one to go through most things first. it's like being the lead-off hitter in baseball: you need to let the rest of the team see the pitcher, the bite of the breaking ball, the strike-zone this particular ump has.

i'm not afraid of children so much as i am afraid of my nephew. i watch him run around and don't understand what he's doing, moreover i don't want to be responsible if or when something bad happens. i fail to understand why it takes him so long to grasp concepts that seems so easy even an infant should be able to understand it. he seems like he is the last hope for my family, and therefore should be graded to a higher standard.

i'm not afraid of all children; i love kids. my friend sel has two of the most beautiful girls in the entire world, and nelly has an infant daughter that brightens up the entire world. a friend of mine even passed along a video of her niece and nephew wishing her happy birthday--the video was better than could've been written, down to them even forgetting my friend's name.

little hallelujah is now sitting on my computer, blocking my view. she wants the comfort of chewing on my sweatshirt and the knowledge that as soon as this is done i will scratch her behind the ears--the one place her little maine coon claws fail to do a descent job. i will, and next time i'm having a rough day she'll claw her way up, into my lap, and let me pet her or cry little tears into her waterproof coat. she's a good cat like that.