Science Tells Me I’m Miserable

Sometimes I think science hates me.  It calls me fat, tells me “Breast implants are not lifetime devices” (what?!) and now it’s pointed out that I’m much less happy than I think I am.

According to a study conducted by Richard Eibach and Steven Mock of the University of Waterloo (which sounds made up), being a parent is not as fulfilling as I thought it was going to be.  I became a father to fill that emotional hole in my life but it remains as empty as ever, the scientists determined after asking a bunch of parents a bunch of leading questions.

There’s just one problem.  It’s not true.  I’m happier than I’ve ever been!  Why?  Because of my little miracle baby.  His bright, innocent smiles light up my life.  His gleeful giggles provide an unending soundtrack of bliss to everything I do.  Without my baby, I would be nothing.  Not a hero, but a zero.

I would be just another drone, going through my life without any responsibilities, making my own schedule, watching TV whenever I wanted, going to parties, sleeping until noon, guiltlessly engaging in extreme danger sports like hang gliding and smurfing (wherein you dress like a big plush smurf and start fights at crowded movie theatres), walking through my apartment without getting stabbed in the foot by some diabolically designed “enjoyment toy”, a head full of thick, lustrous hair, abs that could stop a speeding train, clothes that are clean instead of caked with days-old milk and mush and spit and sorrow and… oh God the study is right!  I am miserable!  I’m a total loser!  I’d be so much happier and freer without a baby shackled to me!  Somebody help!  Help me!  Get me out of here!

Um… well, this is awkward.  I took leave of my senses just now.  Went to a very dark place.  Please disregard most of that.  I am very content to be a parent, particularly the parent of my baby, who, as discussed, is a little miracle.

Thank you, that is all.

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