Where Babies Come From

So a guy meets a girl …

Hold on, I promise that I think I’m going somewhere other than where you think I’m going.

So a guy meets a girl, and they like each other. They hang out a lot. They make out a lot. Things progress. They go to fancy dinners and fall in love. They go to beaches or mountains or wherever it is they find their bliss and fall in love.

The love grows. Sometimes it gets tested. The girl wants a moped. The guy wants a motorcycle. Whatever. They work out differences and make each other shiny. Eventually, it comes time that they may as well spend their lives together because, hey, what’s forever? So the guy buys a shiny ring. Then they move in together. They get a dog after a while, because that’s what you do. Who doesn’t love puppies? They work so great in an apartment. Then they get married.

So now the guy loves the girl and the girl loves the guy and they’re together forever and they have a puppy who’s growing like a weed. Their lease runs out and they re-sign because they like their apartment, but all the sudden the rent goes up and that sucks. They get bored one day and start looking at real estate websites. Why keep throwing all that money down that hole? They’re together, and they’re happy and in love, and why not buy a house? The dog isn’t getting any smaller and walking him all the time is getting to be a pain in the ass. Yards are great for big dogs that you don’t want to have to walk all the time, right? RIGHT?!?!?!

So they buy a house. Everyone’s happy. The dog has places to run. There’s all kinds of money to spend because all the sudden there’s all kinds of rooms to fill up with furniture. The dog poops all over the yard, but who cares? Every bathroom break isn’t a walk down several flights of stairs! Huzzah!

But wait: There’s all kinds of rooms. There’s all kinds of yard. Someone has to clean those rooms, and yard work – no matter how much the guy is starting to agree with his father’s philosophy of keeping the sticks picked up – is getting repetitive. There are only so many times that weed pulling and picking up sticks leads to a profound sense of accomplishment. They’re still weeds and sticks. Windows don’t clean themselves, do they? And who wants to keep cleaning up all this dust? You know what we need? Little people to entice to do chores in return for – what was it called? – oh yeah, an allowance.

That’s where babies come from. 😉


About Jake Boyer

Hi, I’m Jake. Here are some descriptors that apply to me: writer, photographer, soldier, husband, son, brother, sergeant first class, geek, father, runner, reader, Hawkeye fan, lover of LOST, fan of Elmore Leonard, Sports Illustrated subscriber. I like a lot of things and want to start writing about them again. I used to blog a lot, but now I do all my writing for the Department of Defense, either at my day job with the Defense Logistics Agency, where I edit Loglines, or when I moonlight as a sergeant first class with the Army Reserve’s 200th Military Police Command. I hope you like what I’m trying to crank out here! You can follow me at Twitter through my handle @jakeboyer.
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