Remember Me When I'm Old

Another night at work... killing time writing test plans and stock piling the OverTime to help pay for the Adoption.

The only one who may remember me when I'm old and gray

I suppose I should be happy that I CAN work copious amounts of overtime to help pay for our 2nd adoption.  I understand that not everyone has this option.

I had a very cunning plan for getting old, and yes, it involves adoption.

See, I figured with 3 or so children, that there would be at least 1 of those children who would love me when I'm old and take care of me when I needed it.  You know, someone to put me in a nice home when I can't remember where my house went.  Someone to help feed me when I have no teeth.  Someone to help me remember my name when my wife isn't around to keep calling my name (to tell me to turn off the bathroom light, lock the doors, etc).

My brilliant cunning plan (yes, it went from just plain cunning to BRILLIANT *and* cunning in the last 30 seconds) took another big step forward when we decided to add our 4th child.  See, with 4 children, I had even a BETTER chance of 1 of the children actually being there to take care of me when I am that old and decrepit.

Now, with our 5th child on the way... I was feeling pretty confident that I would be WELL looked after as I gracefully stride into my twilight years.  At least 1 of our 5 children will love me, have pity on me, and look after me...

However, the astute among you may have noticed that I am at work.  Trying to finish paying for the 1st adoption, while saving up for the 2nd adoption, while trying to pay the bills for the broken car, septic tank, and outstanding bills.  Focus on the "at work" part of that though.

See, my brilliant cunning and down right genius plan had 1 flaw... It required me to actually be at home WITH my children so they WOULD remember me when I'm old.  At the current rate of my OverTime VS Unpaid Bills, I might not be able to see my beautiful children until the youngest is 33... or so... right around the age where the girls should be allowed to start dating.

Unfortunately for my brilliant cunning and down right genius and enlightened plan, 33 is well past the critical bonding phases of childhood - and as such, my children may feel very little attachment to me when I am older.  In essence, they might forget about me...

So, here I am... working copious amounts of over time to pay for our adoptions so that in our twilight years, my wife can be well looked after by our 27 children while I suffer away in poverty unable to remember who I am, where I am, how I got there, or who my family is... but hey... the kids are worth it.

:-)  Now... If you don't mind excusing me, my 3rd shift is about to start...