The continuing saga of text messages between me and my baby.
EDIE: How'd you get signed up for this dad thing?
POP: You make a baby and then you stick around.
EDIE: So you didn't like try out for me? At least win me in a claw machine?
POP: I sort of tried out for your Mom. I don't think she was looking for good baby making materials but let's just say I beat out a few lookers. You could have been a totally different genetic mashup.
EDIE: Did you just say 'lookers'? Are you an old timey weirdo?
POP: You don't get me. I do a lot of things ironically.
EDIE: I hope you're wearing that shirt ironically.
POP: I hope you're wearing that drool ironically.
EDIE: I hope you're wearing that gut ironically.
POP: I hope you're wearing that mullet ironically.
EDIE: Hey! I'm sensitive about my hair! This is my first time with it, okay? It's just growing in weird.
POP: Oh, I'm sorry, baby. It looks like you need some sun tan lotion. Because you just got burned.
EDIE: Is this who we're going to be? Is this how you're raising me?
POP: You're right. That's not cool. I should rise above pettiness. You're a baby. I'm a grown man.
EDIE: Sorry, was that you being ironic again?
POP: I'm not stooping to your level. Which is two feet.
EDIE: Touche, Pop. I'm sort of appalled you got the job of Dad so easily. There should have been at least some sort of competition.
POP: How about the competition of keeping us in a sustainable lifestyle vs abject poverty?
EDIE: How about a Dad Deathmatch?
EDIE: Prospective Dads get thrown into a Hunger Gamesesque survival game. They have to use Dad Tools to outmurder the other competitors.
POP: What are Dad Tools?
EDIE: I'll paint you the picture. Here's one dad gagging another dad with a used diaper. Across the kill stadium is another dad using a poorly constructed changing table to bludgeon another father.
POP: How did you get such a morbid sense of humor? I thought that was my thing.
EDIE: You sing me weird depressing lullabies. Do you think I'm going to be normal? Anyway, there you would be at the top of the dad pile using a Baby Bjorn as a giant sling. The final dads are storming you. One of them has made a mobile into nunchucks. The other-
POP: Wait. What happens?
EDIE: There's a character limit, dummy. Hold on. The other remaining dad has covered himself in baby powder and made a trident out of a stroller frame. All seems to be lost. But then you see me in my Mom's arms and you delve deep into your killzone. And Death comes to Dad City.
POP: That's very exciting. What if we just pretend that's what happened?
EDIE: I'm already pretending that. The alternative seems dull and full of gross things parents do.
POP: You're not going to see me as anything but a dad, huh?
EDIE: I don't gain that cognitive ability until I'm 16, Pop. Good luck. You're barely a person to me. Now get me some of those animal cookies.
