The list of people telling my wife and I that we should give my boy a sibling is growing by the day.  One of my own brothers, the oldest, has joined the ranks of folk in favor of us adding number two.  Me, I’m more of a “why gamble” kind of guy.  My son was born healthy, handsom, and grumpy.  What more could I ask for?  My big bother, I mean brother, said “the second one will probably be the total opposite.”  That’s exactly what I’m afraid of – the opposite of healthy.  Plus, I have to concern myself, for the rest of my life, with the safety of my boy. (I am very clear on what’s going on in NYC right now with the killing of a 23 year old male at the hands of undercover police officers. Sad facts: Fifty shots fired; one dead young black father of two; two young men seriously wounded; all except the cops were unarmed.  Somehow we have to protect our families from this kind of thing.  More on this as the story unfolds.)   The thought of worrying about two makes me a teensy bit queasy.

And oh yeah, I (we) ain’t got no money.  Between my wife and I we have a few degrees, which means we will be paying back loans until we retire in about 60 years.  That, on top of the day-to-day cost of just living in NY, is enough to make me think twice about growing the family on a non-profit salary.  Maybe by the time I’m thirty my wife and I will discuss it again.  Until then, unless I hit the lottery between now and the big one, case closed.