In The History Of Life, No Good

Our Date-nightrule Is No Talking About The Kids. That Lasts About To The End Of The Driveway.

We Had The Boy's Name Picked Out, But We Didn't Have A Girl's. When He Turned Out To Be A Boy, We Were So Relieved. Literally, In The Middle Of Contracting And Pushing, And With My Wife Being Drugged - Out And Half - Lucid, We Were Still Coming Up With Names.

It Was Trying To Make My Tennis Game Look Mildly Respectable, Which I Found You Don't Even Really Need To Practice If You Have A Really Good Editor. They Can Edit It And You're Like, "hey, It Looks Like I'm Playing Really Well." That Was The Fun Part, But It Was Like Going To Summer Camp.

The Most Rewarding Part About Being A Dad Is Just Looking At Children Who Didn't Exist At Some Point. The First Time You Saw Them, They Were The Size Of A Quarter, In A Sonogram, And Now They Can Pour Orange Juice And Yell At Each Other.

By Shrewdly Linking Procreation To An Act Likely To Make You Stupid With Excitement, God Has Seen To It That Life Does Indeed Go On. It's Possible, By The Way, That This Is Why God's Name Comes Up So Often In The Middle Of The Act; It's A Salute To The Author: Hey, Whoever Made This Up - Thanks.