So now the little hero walks.

Well, not walks. More like falls forward and in a constant state of catching himself. Still…

Next thing I know he’ll be talking.

Then he’ll be telling me how he feels about things.

And then, how he doesn’t like the things I like. Arguing as they call it.

Then he’ll be throwing fits in public. I’ll have to invent/invest in some tantrum pylons, for society’s protection.

Then school.

Up next he’ll start to stink. Little man sweat stink.

Then girls. Then the sex talk. Then heartbreak. Then I will cry with him. I can share that with him. Too well maybe.

Then the car.

Homework. No homework. School will suck? Probably. I didn’t like school.

The dangers of teenagerdome? I don’t know about this. There is very little I can do about it. Keep him adjustable. Keep him adaptable. From a distance I’m sure.

Then he’ll move out. To a bigger school. A bigger school that will suck? I don’t know. Maybe he’ll take after his mom and be ‘smart’.

A bigger world. The ‘real’ world. As if this isn’t all a dream.

Then another heartbreak. I’ll relate to this one too. The first cut is the deepest, but there are a lot of first cuts.

Then whatever. The great ether. Magic tragic spastic fantastic.

I’m sure some of you have been there and are thinking, “How cute. Look at him think about the future. Little does he know.”

Well listen here bub/bubess (wtf is the feminine of bub?), I know how much little I know. And yes it is very little indeed.

I will just say this: Everything is gravy. He gave me a kiss today. Oh omnipotent and sentient or not being at the helm of existence. I am so scared. I am so prepared. I am so scared.

What a fucking ride.