Problems

S, and women in general, (this particular blog is going to make all sorts of blanket statements about women in general, none of which are to be taken with a grain of salt because grains of salt are not as good as just liberally applying a good portion of salt to your chips or fries) get all concerned about various unimportant things when a baby is born. Irrelevant things really, like, a crib and diapers and what color the room will be painted et al. These are obviously mere unnecessary appurtenances thrust upon us by the money grubbing capitalist society. Babies have been sleeping fine on various surfaces, rock, dirt, sheep skin, for time en memoriam. And diapers have always been found, and rooms haven't always been certain colors. In fact, sometimes they haven't even been rooms. As for strollers, well, that's why the good Lord gave us arms and backs and good grabby hands and the like. Grabby hands is mine.

Anyhow, as the male in the relationship I can't get caught up in all of these irrelevant things. No. I've got to be concerned about the single most important thing when you have a girl child. A dowry. We've got to start saving our money and estates and goats and sheep and stuff, so that a man will one day marry our daughter.

Can you imagine the embarrassment that would ensue if a young gentleman called me on the phone to ask for my daughter's hand, and I couldn't offer him up a solid dowry? Shame. And look, I haven't been a dad for very long I've no earthly clue what the going rate is for a young lady from the United States. Lord knows in order to make this all work, S and I will be forced to spend a few more Saturdays down at the horse tracks. Mind you, I'm not suggesting it for my benefit, I'm doing it for the sake of our little one. How else can you earn an honest day's wages without working?

Luckily I clicked on that wikipedia page and learned that we get a bride price. This is just further impetus for us to really push her to get a quality score on the SAT. Otherwise, she'll be forced to take on mommy and daddy in their dotage (just a reminder that one of the things I look forward to most in my dotage is telling a story, waiting ten seconds, then telling the exact same story again while younger people squirm uncomfortably and try and figure out if they can say something to me) as opposed to putting us up in a nice facility where we can play bingo and complain about young people and the like.

A lot of people who have heard this idea have said things to me like, "You idiot. Do you realize that we don't require dowries in our country anymore." Guess what? Most of my friends are young people who haven't had kids yet, and they pretty much know nothing about strollers handling and little swings that play sweet violin music or what the going rate is for a girl child on the open dowry market. Ergo; I don't pay any attention to them.

In the end, I guess the point that I'm getting at is that if love isn't enough, I'm hoping that an extra fifteen thousand, two horse drawn carriages (in moderate to fair condition), a gold finch, two stuffed cats (family pets), a ticket stub from the movie Joe vs. the Volcano (not included), seventeen journals (in middling shape), a painting of either the English coast or a poorly rendered night sky (original), three copies of the book, The Mystery of Marriage, a poorly constructed plan to take over the world's supply of Oxygen (done on napkins), a well-loved teddy bear with an apple on his bib (bib not included), an affidavit signed by both parents, plus witnesses, that grants full access to any items discovered at the end of any rainbows in the next ten calendar years (giraffe negotiable), a cat (in poor condition), a commode and an old Trombone of indefinite lineage (possibly from the future) will be enough to sway the fellow!