Being a Childless Parent is Tough

Don't get me wrong, I am not talking about being in my mid-30s and just wishing I had my genetic code passed on in some little person. That's an issue for another time, ideally when it is actually on my mind. No, what I mean here is the sense I got today, as I walked from the post office to my car, that I was a parent.

Yeah, not too many people get that feeling when they think of the post office. I mean, mail-order brides is one thing, but mail-order children? And even mail-order brides fly in coach rather than via Express Mail service. "Excuse me, Mr. Purvis? Please sign here for you parcel. No, we cannot unplug the airholes again until we have verified your signature." Anyway, I already have a wife, thank you.

You see, today I put my invention (for those who missed it in earlier posts, it is a tactics board game) in the mail. I have submitted it to a toy-and-game representative for review. These guys (it's three men, so don't go all PC on my language) have each spent a couple decades working in the toy/game industry, including design and executive positions. They make their own products and review the products of loons like me.

OK, but that's not too hard, right? Yeah, right. Take nine years of your life—no, not every minute, but I had the basic idea in 1996—and, though the idea has only been in its finished form for six years, put it in someone else's hands. Writers know the feeling. Artists know the feeling. It's pain and joy and anticipation. It, as the song says, "hurts so good." I've gone through this with my poetry, my fiction, and my photography, and I have even publish poems and won awards for my photography (the fiction is still lagging behind, but maybe now I can turn the corner there, too, while I am weak from this).

That game is my baby. I was not satisfied with the way the world of games went, and so I created my own to fill in for the shortcomings. My child will be the star of his class at school. My child will impress the teachers and the administrators. All the kids will want to play with my child. Well, a father can dream, can't he? But maybe, just maybe, my dreams will come true. We'll see in about four weeks whether or not my baby passed his entrance exams.