There is No Defense For Chaos

"You're being unreasonable," I declared. My voice was not raised, though the exasperation was evident. That was the last sentence I got out before the macaroni and cheese hit me in the face.

Fortunately, that was the worst part about baby-sitting my two-year old niece this week. You can read as many books as you can, grill as many parents as you know, and watch as many DVDs and television programs you have time for, but nothing will prepare you for being a parent like babysitting. And by "will prepare you," I mean, "will make you realize how ill prepared you are."

I'm actually playing it off far worse than it was - for myself, my niece, and my wife - but the exchange above, the macaroni incident, highlighted something that I've neglected to consider: it is nearly impossible to have a logical conversation with an illogical child.

What brought that epiphany to light was actually chocolate milk. Carrying my niece in my arms, I was getting something out of the fridge when, spying her sippy cup, she requested chocolate milk. Thing is, that sippy cup had regular milk in it. Her chocolate milk was already out on the table. For a split second, I was about to be Awesome Uncle and hook her up with her chocolate milk. But two different cups with two different milks was too much for my niece to comprehend at the moment and, after trying to explain the situation to her, and steer her away from the regular milk in the fridge, finally exclaimed, "You're being unreasonable!" My words must have shook her, because she tossed her pacifier in my general direction, which landed on a fork, which Mouse Trapped into half a bowl of macaroni flying in my general direction.

Now, the situation isn't nearly as dramatic as I've described it and both my niece and I moved on better people. She was calling for me to sit next to her and read stories just minutes later. But it made me realize that I've spent years trying to form logical arguments, and now I have to prepare for just the opposite.

My Lovely Wife is an attorney. She's a damn good attorney, too. Her mind, her mentality, her inherent logical thinking has put her in a position to be atop her chosen field in due time. Also, it means I have never, ever won an argument. I resigned myself to that a while back, but have been trying to fortify any position with my own brand of logic, in a desperate attempt to win any small concession. And now I have to change up my style again.

Practicing logical reasoning and critical thinking is no match for a child who wants that milk, right now. Oh, and that 2% milk better be chocolate by the time it hits her lips.

I may have to mount a different offensive in my rhetorical battle, but the outcome will still be the same. I'll never win an argument with any female in my family.

The Ides of May

Yesterday was the 15th of the month and you know what that means...

• Check bank account online to ensure direct deposit has been deposited directly
• Pay outrageous condominium association fee so those geriatric-home style carpets in the hallway are cleaned regularly
• Mentally prepare for baby arriving two weeks sooner than last internal freakout
• Write e-mails to day care centers extolling virtues of unborn child

So about that last one.

Identifying and touring day care centers was the easy part. Actually being moved from waitlist to accepted by said centers is a modern-day equivalent of the "Ooh, ooh pick me" days of elementary school dodgeball.

Apparently, cutting a check for $50-$125 or facing an uncertain future wherein I bring my daughter to work in my briefcase, then quietly rock her to sleep in my file drawer, isn't enough to prove to day care centers that I am serious about their services.

Every single place I toured recommended regular e-mails or communications, about once a month, to "just stay in touch." Apparently, some overzealous parents take this a step further, offering baked good bribes and more to the center. (Hey, any of you caretakers have an employment issue with the federal government? How about a pending zoning request in front of the Parks and Planning Commission? I got the hook up).

I understand that expectant parents blanket any available infant care center within a five-mile radius of their home and their office. I understand that these facilities do not want to waste their time with parents that are not seriously intersted in placing their child in that center. I'm not sure why it costs me money -- more money than it did to apply for college, when someone had to read and process my credentials -- to write down my name and phone number on a list.

But, as is protocol, I happily cut the checks, and cheerfully send an e-mail on the 15th of every month. Sometimes, there is an actual point to the e-mail, like last month's, which revealed Baby TBD is now Baby Daughter TBD. This month's e-mail was more focused on the recent string of nice weather in the DC area.

So the e-mails have been sent, and a few even wrote back ("thanks for staying in touch!"). In the meantime, can focus on other things for 29 more days, until June 15, when the same day care centers will receive the same e-mail from me. Seems silly, since we're not even looking until the first of December, maybe even January.

By the time my daughter enrolls in a day care, she'll have spent more time its waiting list than inside my wife's uterus.