Last night I spent a few hours over at Jessica's. I arrived shortly after 9:30. I could hear Jessica on the phone in the kitchen with someone. From around the corner sprung a short curly haired boy wearing a cowboy hat and playing a flute. I think luckily for his mother, the flute didn't work too well, although Chase was able to extract a note or two from the instrument. Jessica remained on the phone discussing something vaguely relationship related.
There are many games we can play with a flute. Chase and I made our own two man/one flute band. I covered the holes and Chase blew. Of course, I know nothing of how to play wind instruments, in spite of the fact that I am known for hot air. Chase also showed me a neat trick where he could balance the flute on the brim of his cowboy hat. Of course, I told him that that was easy. In order to be really amazing, one had to run down the hall and back without it falling off. So we practiced that for a while. After a few minutes Chase mastered the technique of running full speed down the hall, then slowing down for the turn so the flute would not fall off. We also practiced balancing the flute on end. Neither of us were particularly good at that.
Ate dinner and then it was Chase's bed time. Chase was shy so I had to turn around so I couldn't see him change. Standing in the hallway, I was struck by how high the ceilings are at Jessica's apartment. I noticed this before when me moved her in last week. However, I hadn't answered the burning question most males have when encountering an abnormally high ceiling. So I immediately began to formulate an experiment to answer that question. The results are: yes, I can jump and touch the ceiling. Chase was impressed, and his mood improved. Then he claimed I couldn't touch the ceiling in his room though. So I proved it. Fair being fair, with a little bit of help, Chase was also able to jump and touch the ceiling, in spite of his obvious lack in the height department.
I've thought about having children. To me, the 4 to 6 years are the best. I think I could hang out with kindergartners all day long. But I don't think I would make a good father. First, I don't have much patience. Changing diapers, packing lunches, shopping for ever increasing shoe sizes. I would let a lot of these kinds of things slide. Second, I would be completely ineffective at discipline. I would much rather spend time playing with a child than disciplining a kid. I would let them have cereal for every meal. It would serve as a great excuse for me to eat cereal.
On the other hand, children and I get along quite well. I'm great for helping find the monsters under the bed. For reassuring a kid when he's scared, or has scraped an elbow. I love merry-go-rounds, swings and slides. Although I pout cause they don't really make slides big enough for kids my size.
For the moment, I shall survive playing with other people's kids. Should be enough to keep any kind of fatherly cravings from taking root.