I married a man who did not want children.
"The world," he intoned, "is a wicked place. I cannot bring children into this world and see them suffer."
I, on the other hand, planned on having oodles and oodles of children. I didn't do drugs in high school...because I wanted healthy babies. I didn't sleep around...because I wanted healthy babies with the right guy.
Oodles and oodles of babies...
It's a story I've told before. The buying of Boys birthright. Beloved had other plans but also had a desperate longing for a certain piece of stereo equipment. It's a weakness he has to this day.
I bartered for a baby.
He got his speakers.
I got my baby.
And I proved that I was right. He made a wonderful father.
Maybe not a first. He was so young. So immature. We were, after all, in our very early twenties and he didn't want children, remember?
But time passed and I marvelled at this man who didn't want children. This man who was so over-protective that he made me look like a welfare mother. He was the man who held Girl after a long days work because her hours of screaming were turning me into a raving lunatic. He was the man who took Boy to breakfast every Saturday with the guys so that he could listen and learn.
He had tea parties with Girl and her friends.
He taught Boy to shoot a bow.
And every night he read the Bible to his children as I sat by listening and smiled to myself.
He made an excellent father.
This man who did not want children danced with his Girl at the Father/Daughter Ball, even though he doesn't like to dance. This man who prays that the Lord will guide his Boy along paths of righteousness.
This man who did not want children became a most excellent father.
Happy Fathers Day my Beloved.
Oh, and you can admit it, I was right!