I just called my wife's machine at work to inform her that I was going to off our number 1 progeny and named a litany of perfectly good reasons. At least, I hope it was her machine. I was a bit, um, frothy... so it might not have been. How bad is it to call some random crown prosecutor to tell them you are going to off your child? Just wonderin'. (They might not get my sense of humour, I fear, what with having to deal with actual child killers and all, and not you know, knowing me and how much I love said progeny. Anyhoo.)
Off to have a panic attack about them impending visit from Child and Family Services. Or possibly the police. And to cope with the young, nap-refusing, crying and screaming at the drop of a hat, waking up the baby, outwardly defying, just plain contrary child of mine. And pray to the gods of zen bestowance (no, I don't actually know if this is a word) to throw some scraps my way.
And yes, I'm sure I'm gonna miss this when he gets older. It's the here and now that seems to present a bit of a challenge.