Bouncing

As in: back
The car, that is. We have it back. Chris got a call from SFPD on Thursday morning--they'd found the car just a couple of miles from our house, parked in a metered spot, and adorned with three parking tickets. For some stupid reason, DPT isn't hooked into SFPD's hot sheet, so they just kept issuing tickets on this car that had clearly been abandoned there. Stupid. But we have Rudy (the car) back, again without a stereo. We're debating whether to replace the stereo at all at this point, since it's the most appealing feature of the car now.

As in: off the walls
Some friends of ours just announced that they're pregnant, which is incredibly exciting news. It sparked another installment of an ongoing conversation Chris and I have been having for years: when should we have kids, where should we raise our kids, and wait! should we have kids?! Last Saturday, we went to a matinee at the ballet and I got stuck sitting next to a bored four-year-old for part of the performance. He was literally turning somersaults in his chair, kicking the railing in front of us, and headbutting my hip under the armrest between us. His mom finally noticed his antsiness during the intermission and swept him away while muttering profuse apologies. After they left, and in response to my eyerolling, Chris said, "That was me as a kid." I slowly turned to him and said, "If you actually want me to bear your children, you should never say that to me."

Thing is, Chris was a hyperactive child and to some extent, he's a hyperactive adult. When he's not being ground down by his job and actually gets to sleep 8 hours a night, he's like a superbouncyball. His mom tells stories about him as a child that have taken on nightmare-ish proportions in my mind. (For example? His grandpa, in an effort to keep Chris occupied and out from underfoot, told Chris he'd give him a penny for every lap he ran around a pair of trees in the front yard. Five-year-old Chris earned himself a sweet $2 in a few short hours.) I'm exactly the opposite. I am governed by the law of inertia and always have been. My mom says that I was pretty much a dream child: quiet, cheerful,and happy to entertain myself. As long as I had a stack of books, I was content. So you can understand why I'd be more than a little nervous to have kids with Chris--it's a total crapshoot. What if we have a Chris 2.0? I'm not sure how I feel about chasing a tiny dervish around the house all the damn time. I can only hope that the "you'll feel different when it's your kid" rule kicks in. In the meantime, I will keep my fingers crossed and practice saying, "Your child...."