Complex Numbers

Prenatal Parental

So it's July.

For those of you who might be joining us for "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  [13+]: Hi! I'm Waltz, and welcome to my award-winning blog. Don't be too put off by the math in the header; it's actually just a metaphor.

So it's fortunate that our first prompt for the month lets me write something that's part real, part imaginary.

PROMPT July 1st

Write a letter to your parents from before your birth. Give them advice about how to raise you and give them a heads up about anything they might struggle with when you come into their lives.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I really want you to adopt me so I don't have to grow up in Indiana, raised by someone I presume is an undergrad who got knocked up by some professor. If it helps, they're both obviously supergeniuses. Wait... IQ is a hereditary trait, right?

So I'll say that raising me is going to be (to use a metaphor you might appreciate, Dad) smooth sailing all the way. Yep, no problems at all. Model child.

...You're not buying it, are you?

Well, get used to it. I lie all the time. Usually I call it "fiction writing," except when I try to tell you that it's not my fault (it probably is actually my fault).

Still, truth is, I at least won't be too terribly disappointing. No time in juvie, and the worst trouble I'll get in at school is saying the F word where a teacher could hear me. Well. That's the worst they'll know about. Thanks for teaching me chemistry, by the way. On a related note, I won't do drugs (that you know of), drive drunk, or emulate my biological father by getting some chick pregnant.

I will, however, eternally be the Class Clown. Look, at least I won't be a mime, okay?

Sorry in advance for nearly burning the house down.

I know you're going to worry about me growing up as an only child in a rural area with few friends nearby. Don't. That worked out for the best. I see people terrified of being alone, and you'll teach me that sometimes, it's better. What friends I have will be good ones -- even if you don't always approve of them. They'll teach me things that you can't.

Not about sports, though. I will always suck at sports. Except maybe tennis. But that's okay; the aforementioned "growing up alone" thing will prompt me, above all else, to like what I like, everyone else be damned.

Word of warning: I will, as a kid, get salty about the whole adoption thing. Don't take it personally. It won't be until I'm older that I'll realize it meant that my parents (that's you) really wanted a child, which is more than a most people can ever know for sure. And I never will try to track down my biological parents. There's no need. One family will be enough for me.

Mom, thanks in advance for teaching me how to love the arts and humanities. Dad, same for teaching me about science and technology. Both will serve me well, and not just for the incident with the school's ventilation system that officially never happened and if it did, it's not my fault.

Okay, no, I'm not going to be the perfect child and you're not going to be perfect parents, but we'll get through it.

I'm just glad neither of you is going to be around for the utter shitshow that is 2020. Spoiler: still no interstellar travel, and boy, could we use some of that right about now.

Love,
Your son,
Robert