The First Cut is the Deepest

Apparently, Jason let one of his kids play with the keyboard the other night – a little “Lucas with the lid off” action. What? Those weren’t just the random keystrokes of a four-year-old?

Oh, shit, my bad.

Black Hockey Who?


So now DadCentric is like a Front 242 song? Suh-weet. Wow – things are looking up around here.

Honestly, it’s good that Jason brought in some new blood – rookies always help keep the wily veterans on their toes and at the top of their respective games. I suppose I should just get to posting something right about now.

Since the arrival of the Littlest Dubs back in June, I have been having an internal debate. I know it’s the right thing to do and many others have done it, but we’re so attached. I have spent the better part of my life protecting them from any number of threats that I can’t fathom willingly robbing them of their power. But I know I must. And in a conversation over the weekend, it was once again confirmed: I have to, but, thankfuklly, I’m not alone.

What am I talking about? The dreaded “V” word, of course.

No, not Valentine’s Day you ass. Vasectomy. Vas, as in vas deferens (or vas deferentia (Latin plural)) and -ectomy, as in snip, snip, here comes the Kryptonite, Superman.

So, for you pros out there who have reached your limit on the kid quotient, have you gone this route? Are you going? Why or why not? Are you hedging your bets? Can’t imagine bringing one more life into this world? Do tell.

And, for you first-timers out there – Welcome! Nothing but happy-happy talk here. Move along now.

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