bastard children and stray cows

Today was a short workday. We were allowed to leave at 1:00 in order to avoid driving in the ever-deepening snow outside. It was a nice idea, but the roads were probably as bad as they were going to get at that point. But no matter, we had run out of work by then anyway. So it was a brief day.

But even so, there was still time for the daily dose of socially inappropriate conversation. Today a coworker was polling the unfortunate men in his proximity to ask what they would do if they discovered they had fathered a child they hadn’t known about. I guess he wasn’t happy with the answers he’d previously gotten, because he turned to me and asked the same question.

I wasn’t listening; I usually tune him out along with the radio. But I heard my name and something about a child. The juxtaposition was like a kick in the spleen. It was jarring enough to bring my focus to him.

“Hey Dan, what would you do if you found out you had a kid you didn’t know about?” he repeated.


What the crap was he asking me this for? It was about as relevant as asking what I would do if I found a cow in my garage. In fact, I think a stray cow would more likely make an appearance. Having offspring, known or otherwise requires heterosexual contact, which, with all due respect to those who partake, never happened in my lifetime. Ever. So no chance. Zero.

So what to tell him, I wondered? It was not that I wished to lie to this man so much as I had about as much interest in engaging him in personal conversation as I did letting him near any of my furniture when he's feeling wistful. Short of telling him to shut up and mind his own business, I quickly uttered the driest, most predictable thing I could manage: I would feel responsible for the child, regardless of the circumstances.

Technically that's true anyway. My own father was an absent deadbeat dad from day one and I would never neglect my own children the way he did his, regardless of my relationship with their mother. But I didn't tell him that. And like I said, it’s really irrelevant anyway. It was a stupid question. If I'd had the nerve and the wit, I’d rather have given him a stupid answer: If the newly discovered child wasn’t spoiled I’d find some carrots and onions to make a nice baby stew. Oh, that’s awful. No. I'd feed him to the birds. No. I’d tie him to a cow and shoo her away.