I haven’t had this much fun in months! “PEW! PEW!” I was saying under my breath after each shot. I felt like Han Solo taking down Imperial stormtroopers with my trusty blaster, ducking for cover behind each row. “PEW! PEW!”
“Invading the Deathstar, Ken?” you may have asked. Not unless the Emperor is cleverly disguising it as our local Target store. You see, the rows I’m ducking behind are the shelves in the baby section of the store and my trusty blaster… a barcode scanner for registering for a baby shower. Hey, you get your excitement the way you want to, and I’ll do the same! The stormtroopers I’m decimating are the barcodes on packages of baby stuff needed for Sweet Baby Ray to exist comfortably once he decides his current residence isn’t quite large enough to accommodate his kicking parties held multiple times a day. Oh sure, he’s having fun throwing some Chuck Norris-type love into his Mommy’s spleen, but eventually he won’t have room to perform round-house kicks. He’s got about 8 weeks left before Mommy evicts his little baby buns!
Dawn and I were tasked by our Sunday school teacher’s wife to “get registered as quickly as possible!” I think the ladies at church are planning a shower for Dawn and the “Little Liver Puncher” sometime soon. Of course, I won’t be within 10 miles of the place because… well… I’m a guy! I’ve never understood why they need to “shower” a new Mommy anyway. I mean, it’s bad enough that a pregnant gal is “larger” than normal, uncomfortable no matter which way they sit, lie down, or stand, and eat some really strange things. They definitely don’t need a room full of ladies yelling, “Get out the fire hose for this one Bernice! She’s gonna require some extra attention with the wire brush!” If she smells bad or something, get her some deodorant and have that friendly “talk” with her… but don’t make her shower for Pete’s sake!
I’m just kidding, of course. My first guess would be a “shower” implies they are going to shower a family with love in the form of baby gifts, a huge cake, 2.5 hours of making fun of the father of the pending child, and games about baby names. My only role with the other two showers that Dawn has had for the girls was to collect and transport said gifts back to our home. Perhaps eat cake, but that’s about it. It’s a gal thing. I get that.
If a bunch of guys had a “shower”, we wouldn’t call it that at all. We would probably call it “Playing Cards”, “Darts”, “Golf” or something like that. It wouldn’t be held at a church fellowship hall, but probably someplace like a garage, basement, Bar-B-Q joint or a remote cabin. I guarantee you there would be cake there, but it will have been skillfully baked by Little Debbie in the form of Nutty Bars and Zebra Cakes. You would also see some variety of nacho cheese and plenty of beef jerky. We would play games as well, but most of them would require stitches or an ER visit for at least one of the participants during the course of the gathering. The child would receive presents like footballs, basketballs, bowling balls, 4×4 PowerWheels trucks, action figures, a junior weight set, and a racecar-shaped bed. Few words would said, but the love would be apparent. AND… in High Def! I think I may be on to something here!
Oh yeah… guys would have lasers at their “showers” also. “PEW!” PEW!”
P.S. – Yeah, in case you haven’t figured it out by the title of this blog post, I turned 41 yesterday. Yea for me, huh?!! Father@FortyOne
Ken, you’re so funny and cute. You are one of us who march to a different drummer and have so much fun at it. The only thing i don’t like is when people look askance at us as if we are on the wrong planet. Oh well, that’s their problem. I’m so excited for you and your family about the upcoming event.