Parenting In The Hood

I winced when I watched the scene in "Knocked Up" in which the expectant father (Seth Rogen) is found out: He did not read all the "What To Expect" books that he promised to. I felt his pain. I expected to be the best father I could possibly be, just short of having to join the Army. I went to the yoga classes, and the birth classes, and the doctor appointments (well, a fraction of the doctor appointments - there are about six thousand of them spread generously across a nine-month period). In the end, I did what all good expectant fathers do: I was overly enthusiastic and periodically overwhelmed at the moment my son was born. Ten years later I have faint echoes of what I was supposed to remember whenever we watch TV shows about children being born. I nod knowingly when I hear someone mentions colic. I know that "breach" is bad. Pitocin is a great help during many deliveries, but I confess I had to look up the spelling.
There is a very long list of things that I do not know about when it comes to raising a child. But did you know that the Generation 1 Megatron transforms into a Walther P38? It wasn't until Generation 2 that he could switch to a battle tank. I know where all the men's rooms are in Disneyland. I know what a 2-4-2 engine is (and why). I know that the funniest word in the world is "pants." I know that boys can watch heavy equipment for hours, but they have about fifteen minutes of patience with a rake in their hands. I know that Warner Brothers cartoons beat Disney shorts, but even an episode of "Jabberjaw" can make you late for dinner. I know the secrets of my own father, my older brother, Bill Cosby, Gil Buckman, Muphasa, and every other father I have watched carefully to divine the essence of fatherhood.
The list goes on, but now it's time for me to go and wallow in the love and affection I have generated over the past year with my best intentions. Happy Father's Day.