Dad Is Fat

by Jim Gaffigan

You don’t have to be a research scientist to figure out the origin of these virulent epidemics. They come from an experimental breeding ground specializing in the manufacture and mass dissemination of disease known as “the nursery school.” Picture an incubator filled with little germ-infested creatures crawling all over one another drooling and sneezing with their mouths open. Then draw them all into a tiny section of the incubator to use the “potty” and instruct them all to “wash their hands.” Then have each one of them turn on the faucet with their well-traveled little fingers that each harbor a multitude of secrets; run them for half a second under icy water that serves as a refreshing drink to the busy bacteria who live and work on said fingers; then make sure the faucet is turned off with the same fingers that turned it on so any of the viruses and bacteria that may have taken a rest stop on that faucet handle can hop back on their tiny finger chariots to fulfill their manifest destiny. One last stop at the towel that everyone has wiped his or her hands and/or noses on, and a whole new generation of infectious disease has been born.

Museums are a great cultural experience, and by that I mean a great opportunity for you to repeatedly tell your children not to touch things. I find museums incredibly exhausting, and by that I mean acting like you’re interested in some of those exhibits. “So this is a painting by another European painter of another unattractive European from the 1700s? Fascinating.” It seems like they were only painting the sad, ugly people back then. “Hey, you’re hard on the eyes, why don’t I paint your portrait?”

“What’s that like?” I explained what it was like having a fourth kid very simply: imagine you are drowning … and then someone hands you a baby.

Now there are adults without children who go to Disney, and they are called weirdos.