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Why I’m Proud to Be Hurtling toward a Horde of Deadly Dolphins
Here’s the story of the CRT buzz, getting older, and the penis on the chalkboard.
I believe I was plucking a small cluster of nose hairs when news arrived that, although pleasant, did make me feel like a very old man. Now, one might argue that any late twenty-something plucking nose hairs is already an indicator that I’m well and truly over the hill and I’m now hurtling out of control toward a dolphin-infested lake, who, as we all know, kill more people every year than sharks. Probably. But here’s the thing. I had Italian grandparents and anyone with Italian blood out there will know Italians are… prolific, let’s say. 12 kids. And each of them went on to have at least four kids, some six. And most of these cousins of mine have gone on to have at least three or four of their own kids. And some of those kids now have kids. And that means we’re now at a stage where there are no recognised words for what relation all these people are to me. I mean… my cousin’s kid’s kid is my… I don’t know. Second cousin? Fifth? I’m confused. And I’m still a few years off 30. I don’t think this is strictly normal. And this week news hit me that another baby has been born in the family. Which is lovely. I’m now a great uncle. Oh, yes. My niece had a son this week. I’M TWENTY-SEVEN! I feel so old! I have a… great nephew? Grand? God knows. If I live to 80, there’s a very real chance I’ll have a niece with a child, who has a child, who has a child… who has a child. I never thought I’d miss the days of only having to worry about my nose hair…
