The Kids Are Alright

Last night I had dinner with a pair of couples…one of whom now has a baby daughter…at Evan and Eve's apartment. I can’t remember the last time I had dinner with an 8 month year old (or ate a meal that included cheese which wasn't coupled marinara sauce for that matter), but it was a nice snapshot of what my life will probably be like in a few years. I’ve always liked kids, mostly because we have the same taste in food, and I'm still trying to figourout when exactly my appitite stopped evolving. Since my first friend abandoned his training wheels in nursery school people have assured me that life is going to drastically change after some momentous moment of maturation (driver’s license, legal drinking age, virginity, marriage, first Phish show, a variety of graduations), but in general I’ve found that my friends have remained the same until they have kids. Then people really start to change or at least refocus their energy (speaking of which, please check out my friend’s Russ and Beth’s awesome new blog here).

In-between conversations about the benefits of bundling three childhood vaccinations into a single shot (a “bad idea” I’m told), sending your child to pre-school in Park Slope verses Brooklyn Heights (a “good idea” they tell me) and phasing a 14 month old into some sort of pre-pre-school program (a toss up depending on your take on the whole nature verses nurture thing) the conversation segued into the benefits of living in Brooklyn verses Manhattan. Though I live in Manhattan and will probably stay here until I inevitably retreat back to Westchester sometime in my mid-30s, I’m not scared of the outer boroughs and am proud to say I’ve seen a show in each and every one of them (even Staten Island!). But, as many of my friends have settled on the other side of the East River, I've noticed a sort of reverse snobbery in their tone ....and, in my semi-intoxicated state, had an odd flash forward to an inevitable future where my wife is having a conversation with one of her friends on the rim of a sandbox in Prospect Park one Sunday afternoon about how congestion is suffocating our theoretical child and how Brooklyn’s daycare system is less competitive and more supportive than Manhattan’s, at which point I’ll probably interject something about how Staten Island is really where it’s at and reference that one show I show there ten years ago, only to be forced to spend the night on the crappy love seat that’s been giving me back problems since I played in a sandbox (thank goodness I salvaged those cushions!).

Needless to say all this reality talk scared me enough to instantaneously met up with a female friend of mine I like to call the anomaly (not Jewish, not neurotic, not into jambands and not serious girlfriend material) and have an equally enlightening conversation about the merits of the Blind Pig Bar verses the Pink Elephant tavern (one sucks but is where it’s at tonight, the other is chill but dead, go figure). Come to think of it I think I got along best with the 8 month old....