Changing your mind is a snip . . . sometimes
My son-in-law has had the snip. I hear you say; what’s so special about that?
And you’re right. Lots of blokes do it. Personally, I couldn’t. The very idea makes my eyes water as I adopt the foetal position with my hands locked between my legs.
And that’s only because of the pain. I also couldn’t do it because I could never be sure – that I didn’t want more children.
Not very likely, I know, and even irresponsible, given the environmental impact my present five children and nine grandchildren are having on the planet. But you never know.
And that’s the point; because not only has my son-in-law had the snip; but also, while I write this on my laptop in the waiting room, he’s in surgery being joined together again. He changed his mind. But changing your mind isn’t as simple as making it up in the first place.
Note the terminology: " had the snip". The implication is that all it takes is a mere gesture with a pair of scissors and suddenly you’re socially acceptable, especially around fertile women.
But they never mention that the reconnection costs $ 10,000, takes three hours, may not be successful, and you’re awake through the whole surgical procedure.
The small print doesn’t say whether this last point is necessary medically, or just a punishment.
Why am I here, waiting for him? He asked me. It’s a surprise for his wife ( my daughter) who decided that I’m not busy enough with nine grandchildren.
I hope he knows what he’s doing. It’s a fine thing to wish for more children when it’s not possible – it may not seem such a good idea when you suddenly discover that you can.
I haven’t asked him the personal details, but I wonder what he plans to do from here?
Say nothing, perhaps? And when she discovers she’s having twins, leap naked from behind the couch, waving his scars and shouting " surprise!"?
Or accuse her of infidelity and watch her squirm for a few days? I daren’t ask. Besides, I have problems of my own. I thought my last grandchild was my last grandchild.
Then my eldest son announced he was pregnant again, by proxy of course.
That’s going to make it 10. Now there’s the very real prospect of having a soccer team.
But I don’t really like soccer. Now we’ve got this far we might as well go for the footy team.
I won’t tell my son-in-law that yet. I’ll wait till the scars heal.