I see twenty year old boys pushing prams with babies. But I don’t see myself in them. I’m seldom touched by the sight of children I don’t know, and I know you feel the same.
Our relationship is serious – but that’s who we are as persons. I wonder what’s gonna push us one step further. I’m no longer romantic every second you are near. Sometimes I think: Let’s break up – or settle down.
You started to write down pros and cons about having a baby (which says a lot about you), while I entitled a song «Having a Baby» (I have no idea what it says about me). You said: «It’s such a fuss to have a baby here and now. But I’m sure it’ll be a delight when we get tired and old.» I said: «Sure, I guess I’ll be tired when I’m eighty-two.» And you said: «Splendid, cause there’s no expiration date on my eggs …»
But jokes aside: If things become serious, what do we do with the baby? What if our ruminations fall apart with a blast, what if you become as big as a marzipan cake, what if a baby shows up, keeps us awake, is all flesh and blood and needs comfort and food? Then we must be able to work together. We have to be of the right kind, night after night, day by day. You and me and a baby.
Our relationship is serious – a lot more than just «who we are». And we still become romatic and get going like we did last night. But will we be people who enjoy being a father and a mother? Will we be good?
So: We talk and talk about having a baby. We say «yes!», we say «fine!» about having a baby. We wear out and say «no» to having a baby. We make lists and songs about having a baby. Yes, we talk and we talk about having a baby. And now I can see myself with a baby a little better.
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