The Financial Illiterate

 

Our decision to have children was easy. Both Sue and I love kids. In a way, that's ironic because we both come from small families. Sue is an only child, and I have just one sibling. At thirty, my sister, Cathy, is two years older than I am, but because of our months of birth, she registered in school only one year before me. Much to everyone's surprise, I accelerated through the third and fourth grades and caught up to her. This is something I have never let her forget.

As I said, deciding to have children was easy. Barring unforeseen events, we plan on having three. Mind you, if they're all girls, we will keep on going indefinitely. When friends ask me what sex I hope this one is, I always reply, "I don't care ... as long as it's a healthy boy."

Maybe I long for a son because I think that I could relate better to a boy and thus be a better parent. Maybe it's the old carry-on-the-family-name/I-want-to-be-immortal mentality. Then again, maybe Sue's right. It could just be so that I can play in the annual father-and-son golf tournament and miss another weekend of yard work each year. So much for Freud.

Without a doubt, the highlight of the pregnancy to this point has been the reaction of the four first-time grandparents-to-be. Each excited couple phones at least once every forty-eight hours to see how Susan feels and to make sure I'm doing the housework and treating her well. This wouldn't bother me if it were only her parents questioning my abilities as a husband, but my parents are even worse. Dad says that Mom fainted when Susan told her I shampooed the rugs, and I'm not at all sure he's kidding.

Truthfully, helping with housework has been a great