I know that the subject of Birth Control has been a big topic in the news over the last few months. Even in the 21st century. But, here’s some advice even the Catholic Church can agree with:
The best form of Birth Control is: Having children.
You should sense a story coming on…
The other night, Julianna (7) and Isabella (5) are hunkered down at the dining room table watching some kid thing on the iPad. Mommy and Daddy are in the adjoining Family Room watching “Chopped” on the big screen TV.
A commercial comes on. Somehow, Mommy and Daddy start kissing. Seriously. Romantically. (Perhaps it’s the broccoli rabe.)
Mommy glances toward the bedroom..
Mommy: You wanna…?
Daddy (that’s me, for the record): Can we get away?
Mommy: We can try.
We tip-toe, and close the door… 15 seconds later:
BAM! BAM! on the door.
Isabella: Mommy, I need you!!
Daddy: How do they know?!!
Mommy: Isabella, please! Can’t we have 10 minutes alone?!
Daddy (to Mommy): 10 minutes?… That’s optimistic, thanks for the vote of confidence. (but I digress.)
A couple more pleas from Mommy and Daddy to leave us alone fall on deaf ears. So, Mommy sets the girls up with whatever they need. Milk. Juice. A 401K. It takes a while. The girls are contented.
Eventually, Mommy flips on the Hot Tub…
Mommy (to Daddy): You wanna?
Daddy: Can we get away?
Mommy: I dunno. Let’s see.
We slip outside and into the hot tub.
15 seconds later… Four eyes are staring at us through the screen door.
Julianna: We heard the water sloshing. We did NOT know you were getting into the hot tub.
Isabella: Can we get in, too?
Of course. Sigh.
Isabella: Daddy, can I sit in your lap like Mommy was?
Mommy and Daddy (in unison, emphatically and in stereo): NO!!!
A rare Southern California summer light rain begins to fall. Mixed with the heat from the hot tub, the cool summer rain begins to lull us all off to drowsytown.
Eventually, Mommy carts the kids off to bed. She returns to the screen door some time later, groggy-eyed. I’m nearly asleep amid the bubbles.
Mommy: You wanna…?
Daddy: Go to bed?
Mommy: Yes, my words exactly.
Mommy slips into bed while I head off to brush my teeth, check for emails, and make sure the doors are locked. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement in the shadows. I follow the thump-thump pitter-patter of little feet to my bedroom.
Isabella: Mommy, can I sleep with you?
Mommy: Of course. Climb up.
Looks like “Junior” will have to wait to get his start in life.
Oh honey, I hear you. Hysterical! I’m guessing your wife is rather embarrassed right now, as she is the shy type.
And speaking of your hottub (but not the whole don’t-sit-on-daddy’s-lap thing, because I really don’t want to know about that) we have not been to your pool once yet this summer. Just saying.