Like most parents of small children, I live in a world chock full of life.
There is constantly someone crying or laughing around these parts. Hardly a minute goes by when someone isn’t marching through the room pulling a toy train or running for the baby wipes we left upstairs. Heck, they don’t call it the living room for nothing now, do they?
So, it seems fairly natural that my wife and I wouldn’t spend too much time considering our impending demise. But, it’s out there, huh?
It’s out there written somewhere in the stars, our leap into the great beyond/the next chapter/Side 2. For most young parents (okay, I’m 40 so I’m basically hurling my name into a group without anyone’s real approval!), but for most young parents/middle age parents of minors, creating a will is something often put on the back-burner. Still, here are questions that need to be addressed in the event of an early dismissal.
Mainly, who would get our kids?
Who would we want to take them in and love them like their own?
Who would we trust to do that for us? And who might actually want to do it?
Monica brought it up the other day, ever-so-gently she unleashed the “thing we do not speak of.”
“What if we get smooshed by a steamroller or eaten by a swarm of wild ticks,” she belted out during a ride in the Honda. “Stuff happens, ya know? What if we both got the Mad Cow thingy? Who would we want to take Violet and Henry?”
It’s a pointy elbow in the esophagus, that’s what that question is. But before I could shake it off and steer the conversation back toward something more up my alley/something more inane, she tacked on one of her dreaded sentence sidecars.
“I’m serious, Serge!”
And, buddy, you can’t just pull out of that parking lot unscathed.
I thought about the question. I bit my lip to let her know that I was pondering the thing too, but inside my head there was a lot of clanking, a lot of rusty unused gears grinding slow in a pathetic effort to produce a feeble idea or two.
I said some things.
We shared some ideas.
But to be perfectly honest, it ain’t all that easy of a question to answer. Sure, we have relatives. And sure, they are great people with good hearts and minds. But our family, like a lot of families I suspect, is also peppered with relatives who I wouldn’t trust to babysit a Mr. Potato Head, let alone raise our kids. The question got flicked out of Monica’s lips and landed on my brain like a lit cigarette, all sizzling and smoky.
And it’s still up there, embers still burning away. We kicked around a lot of ideas, some sort of obvious and some not so obvious. And some, well, just downright far-fetched (Violet and Henry Obama? Wha??!!) What we didn’t do, though, was settle on an answer.
We’ll have to drag the damn question back out of the cellar to do that now. And soon too, I reckon. Because one thing is for certain: Monica and I love these kids more than the sun loves the sky. And were we to be gone … we’d want them safe and sound and surrounded by as much love as possible. We owe them that much.
Help me out here. Have you done any of this legwork? Have you discussed it at all?
Tell me, who would get your beloved kiddos if you and yours got an ‘early dismissal’?
You can also find Serge on his personal blog, Thunder Pie.
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