Porter's Revenge

When Lillian went into labor, Porter had not dropped. Apparently, this is an important part of the delivery, and without dropping, most doctor's think, say, and then perform a C-section. However, my wife could give rocks and mules lessons on stubborn determination, and that just wasn't going to happen.

I'm fairly certain that when it came time to be born, Porter looked at the option and decided, "Naw, not for me." His thinking was fairly logical: he was warm, well-fed, didn't have to wear diapers, and had his own, personal punching/kicking bag.

But born he was, and he has not, let us forget how angry his is with our decision.

Porter doesn't cry.

Porter screams with length, breadth and duration that Banshees have sent us letters in protest. Angry doesn't begin to describe Porter's general state of being. He burns with a fiery intensity to rival a thousand suns going super-nova. My own personal ability to go from zero to leap-across-the-table-and-sink-my-canines-into-your-jugular-to-taste-the-salty-warmth-of-your-life-blood is but a mere shadow of the emotional outrage my son can summon at will.

Originally, I thought he was angry at being wet, dirty, hungry, cold, or America's continued dependence on foriegn oil.

Now, however, I'm certain the child has determined to punish his mother and father for ripping him from his original room of comfort and ease. I've asked him, and he's admitted, though not in a fashion admissable in court, that he sleeps during the day so as to be awake when I get home from a hard day's slaving at the marketing mills, and then summons his Kung Fu Fury to hurl at mother and father all through the night.

Though bleary-eyed and mostly zombie-brained, I have to admire his determination. You should too!