2001-10-09
Lately B and I have been discussing the Bad Seed concept. He seems to want some kind of guarantee that our child will not become one. I tend to believe that bad children do not happen to good people. That those pleasant middle-class couples whose kids end up sociopathic only seem pleasant, that there are secret explanations. Maybe I just want to believe this--heaven knows it's frightening to think we could find ourselves with our own violent hellion.
We have these hippie neighbors, a couple who are about as kind and well-meaning as they come. Their eldest daughter is 14, though so tall she looks about 18. One recent evening she slammed the front door and screamed, "Fuck you! I hate you all!"
That strikes me as not exactly standard but not beyond the pale. I think it struck deep terror in B. Dogs, he pointed out, never turn on you like that.
The move gets closer; things fall into place. This morning we signed the paperwork on the second mortgage (we're borrowing against the equity in the old house to make the down payment on the new house). Each morning when I walk the dogs I count how many more mornings I'll be doing so in this neighborhood.
I can't believe we're moving! To the sticks! But that's small potatoes considering that in ten or twelve weeks a human baby will come out of my body and begin living in our house with us. Forever. If we're lucky.
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