My Blossoming Education

I haven’t set foot in a classroom in almost a decade. After nabbing my last diploma, I figured the next time I went back to school it’d be to teach or, alternatively, give a court-ordered “what not to do with your life” speech to a bunch of semi-conscious teenagers. But nobody told me there were courses on childbirth and parenting, let alone that I’d have a wife Hell bent on taking them—all of them. While spending a couple of touchy-feely hours with a host of other expectant parents seemed about as appealing as this:

I nevertheless decided to suck it up for my wife’s sake. I knew not what I’d done.

No sooner than I agreed to go get smart on kids did a Ph.D load of baby classes appear in my e-mail. I’m signed up for everything from “Child CPR” (admittedly valuable) to “Breastfeeding Basics” (hard to imagine anything more uncomfortable unless, of course, the instructor is one’s own mother).

Soup-to-nuts, start-to-finish, I’ve got it all coming my way. So I figure it’s only fair for me to report accordingly on my blossoming education. It all starts tomorrow, when we go painless with Dr. Feelgood in “A Night with the Anesthesiologist.” It should be exciting, particularly if they hand out samples.