My family was always enormous. After five years of being together Roscoe prides himself on knowing eighty percent of my relative’s names. However a new member has been added! So Roscoe will be back down to a seventy five percent accuracy rate.
Jessica, Carter’s Mommy* had been pregnant for some time. Nine months in fact. And last Saturday she had the baby. Tragically none of my names for the newborn were chosen, even though Carter has two mommies and I’m one of them.
Not really, however people at the Winnipeg Folk Festival probably thought as much last summer. Like any self respecting festival of the arts, the place was packed with same sex families. Walking around, Jessica and I each holding one of Carter’s small hands we looked a lot like the happy gay couples wandering about with their children. Also I totally claimed the role of the fun parent, mostly because I was unwashed, covered head to toe in dirt and invariably about half of me would be sopping wet at any given time.
While Jessica ran around volunteering for the festival, Carter and I just ran around, at top speed. However unlike many of the fun Dad parents, I didn’t eject Carter from his stroller when we hit one of the inevitable tree roots embedded in the ground on our runs. Prior to these off roading sprints I would securely strap Carter into his chariot.
Other children at the festival were not always privy to such precautions and as a result I witnessed a couple of child flings.
Dads moved across the festival fields, squiring gaggles of children about in buggies, then creating human catapults using said wagons and an obstinate rock. Into the air and over the sides the children would tumble. Unless it was a front facing stroller, invariably it would take the Dads a second to realize that their load was lighter for a reason. The children would lie sprawled across the ground, dazed by the sun and their sudden flight. I of course would be the jerk who was splitting their side laughing. The Dads would then gather the kids up, placing them back into the stroller or wagon and continue on their way, buckles swaying devil-may-care next to small torsos and paying no attention to the various tree roots and potholes on the path. It was the best entertainment to be had at the festival, aside from the music of course.
Anyway, back to the new addition to my family. So despite being mistaken for one of Carter’s two mommies both of my name choices were turned down. I offered up two reasonable options, one for a boy, one for a girl.
Mini Carter for a boy, because Carter is such a great name, so why not have two. Admittedly it would be confusing, however the amount of name yelling would be reduced by half at a crowded playground. Also the “Mini” could be used when you need to distinguish between the two.And for a girl I suggested Cartera. Also for simplicity’s sake. For whatever reason, Jessica and her husband vetoed both of these ideas.
Regardless, my happiness over the new arrival is boundless. I’m looking forward to flying out to meet the little bundle of joy and I shall promise forwards, backwards and upside down that I shall strap the new family member firmly into the stroller before running with it, no matter how amusing small human projectiles are.
*Names have been changed to protect the identities of those who didn’t actually want to be mistaken for being in a couple with me. Seeing as Jessica is all for gay rights, gay marriage, gay adoption and gay children, I think the problem was me. Maybe it’s the height difference, or maybe it was the fact that I kept telling people I hadn’t showered in a week and a half. Whatever the reason, Jessica didn’t want to be falsely identified as my other unwashed half, so I can assume she doesn’t want her name on here either.
Also names have been changed to protect the innocent and under aged. But not the small, at the tender age of four, Carter may very well surpass me in height this year.