There are plenty of things to worry about in life, is the Mars candy company going to do  away with another Skittles flavor and replace it with a god awful flavor? (they replaced lemon lime with green apple, does anyone like green apple flavor, I will take an apple pucker mother effer shot every once in a while, but that’s only because there is alcohol in it)  Is there actually an airborne pathogen that could bring about a Zombie apocalypse?  Will I accidentally see Lena Dunham (the disgusting actress from the HBO series Girls) naked on the internet when I am surfing for other more interesting material?  (She’s totally disgusting and anyone who applauded her for being courageous enough to take her clothes off in front of a  camera is an idiot, how about she gets courageous enough to get on a treadmill? or better yet create a show that is actually funny?)    That being said, I think most parents in the early stages of parenting wonder, and to a degree, worry about how their children are going to turn out.

I shouldn’t have this problem, Rudolph and Winston are well on their way to being Juvenile Delinquents, and likely will spend a significant amount of time causing what hair I have left to turn gray.  This assumption is strictly based on my short comings as a parent and have absolutely no reflection on Shirley’s parenting ability.  But maybe I am placing an over emphasis on the roll a father plays in his two son’s lives.  Hopefully they can overcome all of my terrible qualities as a parent while at the same time avoid inheriting any of them.  Unfortunately, I already see parts of my personality in them.  When an inanimate object gets the best of them and they can’t get it to do what they want they flip out and try to damage it (I still do that).  My oldest became completely unglued last night when I told him he wasn’t funny, “I’m funny dad, he repeatedly said between sobs” (I would react the same way if someone told me I wasn’t funny,  “listen here you SOB!  I”m funny, right?  What about me isn’t funny? Ok, maybe I see your point, my humor isn’t for everyone”)

That being said there are other things that concern me about my oldest son, and had I won the Power Ball last night I would have used some of my winnings to determine if there is such a thing as the dork gene.  Obviously the dork gene would not have come from my loins, genetically I’m dork free, but there are a number of possible dork gene carriers in Shirley’s family and thats where the research would start.  There would be a lot of swabbing and blood draws on that side of family as part of my scientific research.  (There is the possibility that my oldest received the gene from his paternal grandmother’s side of the family, but I’m just going to merely mention that in case she happens upon this blog someday)  Now, some of you may say I’m over reacting, but I have plenty of ammunition to back up my theory that he has the dork gene.

First of all, last night when I was putting him in his booster seat he tried to lick my face, when we got to his swimming lessons he also tried to lick my face.  (He’s five years old)  Also, we attended a party for the Michigan/Michigan State football game and one of my friend’s daughters was asking some of the kids if their siblings wore diapers and Winston or Rudolph, I can’t remember which one my oldest is, got right in her face and said MY BROTHER DOES! spraying spit all over her. It’s already quite obvious that he won’t be too terribly smooth with the ladies.  (no way he inherited that trait from his old man)

The big question is; (i’m using a semi colon here, probably not the correct time or place for that but I thought I would give it a shot)  what do you do with this information if it is revealed to you in utero?  The dork gene probably isn’t a deal breaker, but knowing it ahead of time will help a parent determine how to address their child’s inevitable dorkiness.   I’ve given this quite a bit of thought over the recent past and there are two approaches to this perceived problem.  The first approach would be to foster the dorkiness and make that kid the best dork they can be.  There is really no sense in trying to make them something they aren’t, popular, then your kid is going to be stuck on the fringes of popularity, always wanting more but never being able to achieve it. Popular kids can sense dorkiness and unpopularity like a dog can smell fear, and popular kids are even meaner than a rabid dog, and much more dangerous.

If you mold them into a terrific dork they can strive to be at the most popular dork.  Living a life of a dork they will know no better way of life, model airplanes, comic books, masturbating into a sock (wait a minute cool kids do that as well) are all things that your child will be led to believe are top notch entertainment, except the masturbating part they will probably figure that out on their own.  They wont’ expect to be the quarterback of the football team, king or queen of prom, or the kid who slays all the chicks.  Being a mathlete,  on the debate team, or taking first at the science fair with the robot they made out of fingernails and boogers and powered by urine, will be shining moments in their high school career.  The upside to this entire concept of fostering your kid to be a dork is that their self esteem should remain at a normal level, dorks in movies all seem nice and I can’t imagine them picking on their fellow dorks.  However, if your child makes an attempt to be popular and hang out with the cool kids there is almost an absolute certainty that they will have their self confidence completely shattered  at some point in their scholastic career.

The second option is to beat the dork out of them, this is likely to work  about as well as trying to beat the homosexual out of your kid.  You could force your kid to play sports, my understanding is there is this program called upward sports and they are prepared to indoctrinate your child into the lucrative field of youth sports as early as when your child reaches the age of 5.

You can also try and get your kids to socialize with the cool kids by befriending the parents of the cool kids and hoping that their kids will in turn hang out with your kids because their parents are friends.  However, being rejected by the cool parents at your kids school is probably just as traumatic as being rejected by the cool kids you went to school with, so tread lightly if you are going to attempt and implement this particular strategy.

Or, you could just pay cool kids to hang out with your kid.  Obviously the price would vary based upon the dorkiness of your kid, I’m guessing Shirley and I would have to take out a home equity loan if we wanted to put this plan in to use.  (this strategy is similar to the plot line of the sneaky good movie starring Patrick Dempsey called Can’t Buy Me Love)   The harsh reality is that no matter how hard you try, genetics are who we are and there is little that can be done to alter our genetic makeup.  Granted, science is making great strides in genetic research, but it is unlikely such strides will benefit my children.  The reality is that I need to just realize, it could have been worse, they could be on the path to be the next Justin Beiber, I can’t imagine even his own mom can stand him.  And on top of all that, Shirley will be able to fully realize what I believe to be one of her goals as she over nurtures (code for coddling) Winston, he is likely to never leave the nest.