Those who can't do...

So, when we were pregnant with Ian, I was well aware of my skill deficiencies in all areas of infant care.  As a result of this consciousness, I pretty much jumped at the chance when I learned there were several “new parent” classes available at the midwife practice we were using.  One such class, called “Daddy Boot Camp”, was of particular interest to me, since as the name suggests, it’s just for dads and focuses on FAQ’s in a sort of crash-course manner.  It turned out to be a lot more of a group therapy thing than an informative thing, but I digress…  This past Saturday, I was invited back as their “Veteran Dad” so I could share my vast amount of acquired knowledge about babies with all the nervous soon-to-be’s.  Little did they know, right?  Anyway, I was perceived as a master of the newborn universe thanks greatly to Ian.  This class is 3 hours long and he was totally perfect the entire time, even without his mother being there.  He smiled at everyone, played on the floor quietly with some stuff I brought, showed everyone how he’s already got a tooth and he’s crawling and pulling himself to his feet, and then he even took like an hour nap.  I was pretty ashamed of myself for bringing my perfect little baby to show off to a bunch of guys who statistically aren’t going to have nearly that easy of a time, but then I realized that perhaps some, like me, who were the most scared of the sleepless nights and wailing babies could actually be relieved to see that not all the horror stories are true.  You’ll lose sleep, but not necessarily all of it.  They’ll cry, but not necessarily all the time.  They’ll blow creamy peanut butter out of their ass, but not necessarily all over your lap.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being a new dad (and again I feel I’m pretty spoiled with Ian), it’s that no matter how bad you thought it was going to be, that little face will always make you remember how not bad it really is.