Most likely she will, however. I don’t know what it is about children, but they have an innate ability to make sure they are the last in their genetic line. They will tolerate no replacements. For those little biods who may come later are insufficient replicants, built out of the same genetic materials, but without the same magic quotient that made the child who she is.
Any father knows this is the truth. You’re sitting there, watching TV, minding your own business. Perhaps you have a nice hot cup of coffee, but we’ll get to that in a second. Out of nowhere, like a crack team of Ninjas, a two year old appears, flying through the air at top speed with one foot extended in what’s known as the “Genetic Death Arch”. You try to prepare yourself, you shuffle your body, grab a pillow, but your aging joints are no match for the limber toddler assassin. She’s found her target and is locked on like a laser-guided missile.
You start to scream and everything moves into slow-motion. “Noooooooooooooo!” And she lands, squarely on your crotch, sending lightning bolts of pain through out your entire body. You’re seeing dead inventors, lecturing you about the qualities of electric pulse, your ear drums burst and the nausea hits.
When you get your vision back, the toddler is sitting on your lap. Looking completely innocent. Her face says to you, “Why father, what is wrong? Are you feeling sad?”
This is what you see:
There she is, with her very first set of pig tails, looking adorable. Your anger and paranoia starts to fade with the pain.
“What’s wrong Daddy,” she asks.
“That hurt, honey.”
“I sorry Daddy. I love you.”
“I know honey. It was an accident.”
“Is Mommy still fertile, Daddy?”
“What?”
“You’re the best daddy in the world!”
“Thank you honey. What are you doing with my coffee? Say, when did you get that bionic eye? ”
Discuss
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