A Shit Sandwhich

This post is for all the halfwits (mostly complete strangers) who continue to imply that our family is somehow incomplete.

In fact, this post is an open letter to three halfwits in particular – the tooth-challenged woman at the DVD store who asked what the sex of Tyson was and then tilted her head and said, “Awww, you missed out on a girl”. It’s for the baby-faced Real Estate agent who said, “So, time to try for a girl again?” And it’s for the obese Nanna who stopped us on the way out of Archie’s Kindergarten yesterday to console us with, “Three Boys? Oh well, at least they’re all healthy”.

All I really want to do is tell you to go and eat a shit sandwich but before I do that I’m going to say a few things I wish I’d said at the time and make fun of you in the process. Here goes.

For the record, Reservoir Mum and I never planned for two boys and one girl, or two girls and one boy, or three girls and a partridge in a Plasma TV. Our dream was to have three kids. Why three? Maybe because Reservoir Mum and myself are both from three kid families. Maybe because we had a five-placed dinner table and wanted to fill it. Maybe because I have three testicles and wanted to give them all a run. Who knows? For some reason three felt just right to both of us.

You hearing this DVD woman? Because I know what you’re thinking, (I’m not psychic but I tell you what – I know this for sure), you’re thinking that we only had a crack at a third child because we wanted a girl. You’re thinking that if we’d had a boy and a girl that we would have skipped on the third and lived happily ever after. You’re saying that Tyson, my brilliant son, was a gamble we lucked out on. That he somehow didn’t meet our expectations. That we’re dissatisfied with him. Well, while I’m stopping myself from swearing too much and you’re readying yourself for a tasty shit sandwhich, we’ll have a look at his face –

He’s our third child. He is exactly what we were wanting. It gets no better than Tyson. And no better than Archie and Lewis. Reservoir Mum and myself have seen many other kids – male, female and hermaphro – and none have ever compared. Our kids are the greatest kids we’ve ever seen.

You hearing this Nanna three chins? You might want to think about this before you walk up to the next family, stick your face in their pram and downplay their children. At least they’re healthy??? How about you stick ‘at least’ up your clacker and we’ll hold on to ‘they’re healthy’ because they are healthy and ‘at least’ has nothing to do with it.

Maybe you’d be happier if we’d had a retarded female. ‘Well, at least it’s a girl!’

Bottom line is our dream came true because we have three children. We are in love with them. And very happy. Don’t commiserate with someone who’s won the jackpot. It makes no fricken sense.

I’ll be carrying the address of this post around on slips of paper in my wallet. Next time someone takes it upon themselves to suggest that our family is somehow incomplete I won’t say a damn thing. I’ll just hand them this post on a platter.

But just for myself I’m going to reply directly to you three. Let’s hear those comments again 

The woman at the DVD store: Awww. You missed out on a girl…

Reservoir Dad: Awww. You missed out on some teeth.

 
 
The babyfaced Real Estate Agent: So time to try for a girl again?
Reservoir Dad: So. Time to try for puberty again?
 
The Nana at the Kindergarten: Three boys? Oh well, at least they’re all healthy.
Reservoir Dad: Three chins? Oh well, at least they’re not hairy.
 
Oh, and here’s your shit sandwich.

Trust me. It’s in there.