When I realized that I wanted to marry Amanda, I accepted that I'd have some 2-year-old with toddler glasses that everyone would call "Harry Potter." That's cool. I like wands. Amanda and I have both worn glasses for way too long and no matter how many carrots that kid eats in utero, he/she/it is going to be half-blind.
But I didn't expect this. Amanda is in her third decade on this earth and in a sneaky, 4th quarter move, she pulled a fast one on me.
My wife has an inhaler.
All of this time I thought I dodged that bullet for me and my seed! But nope, after never using one before, Amanda came up with this weird cough over the last couple weeks and the doctor said that she had developed asthma and would need to use an inhaler.
Now she begs for it, insisting that she can't cook/clean/do laundry without it. (She's also developed a strange affinity for tea lattes - again for the cough.) Obviously this is a problem.
I'm not entirely convinced that she has asthma and she's going back to the doctor next week to see if symptoms have improved. But now that Amanda has been told that she has asthma, everything is a placebo for an asthma attack. She chokes on her food - asthma attack. She has phlegm - asthma attack. The gas tank is low - asthma attack. She needs to go shopping - to avoid an asthma attack. Apparently security stops asthma at the front of Nordstrom.
I'm glad that she's found some solace in the inhaler as she certainly does have a bad cough right now. I just wish it wouldn't so formally predict the future of our children. The poor kids are probably going to be wearing rec-specs in gym class, sucking on inhalers at lunch and struggling with dating through high school and college as they blame us for the awkward qualities of their youth, only to find love in adulthood on some online dating site.
At least they'll be happy.