2008 Woodie Awards
Rob recieves heir to kingdom
Oh, Boy!
Rob Pockat
Issue date: 4/3/08 Section: Fun House
Well, it's official my friends…I'm having a baby. Well, not me exactly, but the woman of the house who, ironically, wears the pants in the family is. The baby is due at the beginning of September, which happens to coordinate nicely with the beginning of the next semester. Who needs sleep anyway?
My wife and I recently went in for one of those hi-tech ultrasounds. These ma¬chines don't just look at the baby in two or even three dimensions. Beyond these is another dimension - a dimen¬sion of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone. Okay, it wasn't that cool, but it was pretty close.
With the old-school ultrasound equipment I could never quite make anything out that was supposed to resemble a human being. I always felt like I was looking at a Doppler image of tornado-producing storms blowing through Oklahoma. With this puppy, though, you could see absolutely everything both inside and outside of the baby.
To balance the ease with which this technology made viewing the fetus possible, we were given a four-foot-tall, 150-year-old German doctor who wielded the delicate instrumentation of the ultrasound machine with the finesse of an eight-year-old playing Whack-A-Mole at the local county fair.
He poked and prodded my wife's abdomen from every possible angle, muttering unintelligible commands to himself at each new image displayed on the viewing screen. My wife swore that he was speaking English, but I barely understood a word that came out of his mouth.
So, while this eighth little dwarf was examining everything from the baby's spleen to its eye sockets, I started wondering what the chassis looked like. Would I be able to see the makings of a little shaveling? I needed to know if we were having a dude or dudette!
After about 45 minutes I finally told the doctor that we wanted to know what its sex was. He stopped, muttered something about schnitzels, then he continued to prod. Finally he said, in perfect English and at the top of his lungs, "You see what that is there? It's a little penis!" To which my wife promptly looked at me and replied, "Well, if it's a LITTLE penis we definitely know the baby is yours."
It took a little while for it to sink in that we were finally going to have a man-child in the house. I love my girls more than anything, but they're so…pink and frilly. It's going to be awesome to have a kid in the house that presumably won't want to wear dresses, tights, and fancy shoes everyday. This kid will be able to wear jeans and t-shirts until he has to get a job-or at least until he takes an education class at Lakeland anyway.
With the thoughts of a Robby Jr. running around the house come thoughts of what I'll need to teach him to become a man. Sports, beer-drinkin', and womanizing will have to be at the top of this list. Unfortunately, I know nothing about any of these subjects. Thank God for Google!
As time passes I look forward to the day that I'll be able to hold the heir to my throne in my own hands. I also look to this day with a feeling of sorrow because I know he will have to ex¬perience the first mark of manhood…circumcision. Sorry, son.
My wife and I recently went in for one of those hi-tech ultrasounds. These ma¬chines don't just look at the baby in two or even three dimensions. Beyond these is another dimension - a dimen¬sion of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone. Okay, it wasn't that cool, but it was pretty close.
With the old-school ultrasound equipment I could never quite make anything out that was supposed to resemble a human being. I always felt like I was looking at a Doppler image of tornado-producing storms blowing through Oklahoma. With this puppy, though, you could see absolutely everything both inside and outside of the baby.
To balance the ease with which this technology made viewing the fetus possible, we were given a four-foot-tall, 150-year-old German doctor who wielded the delicate instrumentation of the ultrasound machine with the finesse of an eight-year-old playing Whack-A-Mole at the local county fair.
He poked and prodded my wife's abdomen from every possible angle, muttering unintelligible commands to himself at each new image displayed on the viewing screen. My wife swore that he was speaking English, but I barely understood a word that came out of his mouth.
So, while this eighth little dwarf was examining everything from the baby's spleen to its eye sockets, I started wondering what the chassis looked like. Would I be able to see the makings of a little shaveling? I needed to know if we were having a dude or dudette!
After about 45 minutes I finally told the doctor that we wanted to know what its sex was. He stopped, muttered something about schnitzels, then he continued to prod. Finally he said, in perfect English and at the top of his lungs, "You see what that is there? It's a little penis!" To which my wife promptly looked at me and replied, "Well, if it's a LITTLE penis we definitely know the baby is yours."
It took a little while for it to sink in that we were finally going to have a man-child in the house. I love my girls more than anything, but they're so…pink and frilly. It's going to be awesome to have a kid in the house that presumably won't want to wear dresses, tights, and fancy shoes everyday. This kid will be able to wear jeans and t-shirts until he has to get a job-or at least until he takes an education class at Lakeland anyway.
With the thoughts of a Robby Jr. running around the house come thoughts of what I'll need to teach him to become a man. Sports, beer-drinkin', and womanizing will have to be at the top of this list. Unfortunately, I know nothing about any of these subjects. Thank God for Google!
As time passes I look forward to the day that I'll be able to hold the heir to my throne in my own hands. I also look to this day with a feeling of sorrow because I know he will have to ex¬perience the first mark of manhood…circumcision. Sorry, son.
Be the first to comment on this story