The other night Amy and I were watching Seventh Heaven. No, I don’t know which night it was; Seventh Heaven is on like every night of the week. It’s everywhere. It’s so omnipresent that it’s on nine days a week! Okay so maybe not so much, but it’s there a lot. And we watch it. And we were watching it on that night during which our activities consisted of watching Seventh Heaven and doing other things. Which could be any night really. Hah hah hahaha! I just tricked you into a reading a whole freakin’ paragraph and all I basically said was, “Hey, I don’t remember what night that was exactly.” Sucker.
So during the show, there was dating stuff going on. There’s always dating stuff going on in that show, amongst whatever other moral lesson it happens to be bringing to you this fine evening in question. So, after said dating stuff occurred (does occurred have one r or two r’s? I can never quite decide), Amy emits these following words of impending doom: “See what we have to look forward to?”
I did what comes naturally: I used my male intellect to produce the best course of action that would prevent said impending doom and thus make her point invalid. I told her that our children simply weren’t going to date, because they were all going to be priests and nuns. I stood triumphant, beaming with pride at my quick thinking. That was until it was realised that we’d never have grandchildren at that rate, and grandchildren are good things. See, grandchildren are children with all the fun and none of the effort. It’s like you took something of mixed blessing, like taxes, and removed the bad parts. You get all the joy af mailing random pieces of paper to complete strangers without having to spend buttloads of money while doing so.
So this brings us to my point: taxes are like children. You heard it here first.
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