Offsprung

And in the interest of fair-play, I have to admit to the fact that I also have two sons---a rocket scientist and an astrophysicist. As you can imagine, we have very much in common.

Phone conversations go something like this:
“Hello son, how are you?”
“Fine, and you?”
“Can’t complain. How’s work?”
“The usual.”
“So what’s new?”
“Not much.”

I’m not even sure they’re my sons. Cuckoos maybe, or changelings. Dropped into the nest or switched in the nursery. We don’t speak the same language or, I suspect, even live in the same world. I suppose they would have to kill me if they revealed their pursuits. No, I doubt it. If they explained in detail, the likelihood of me understanding enough to leak top secrets decreases inversely in proportion to the length of the conversation.

Ah well, at least my genes made the world a better place. I think. For all I know they could be jointly plotting to wipe out all other traces of intelligent life in the universe. No, I’d rather think they are working on a plan for World Peace. If Miss America can do it, why not them? And I have better things to do than second guess those two. There’s the national scene which Bro and I have to sort out. Big job, believe me. Spend the summer fixing up your house and traveling, and look how things deteriorate.

Well, any suggestions for fixing the mess will be considered carefully. Personally, I’m thinking along the lines of an exorcism.