Waiting

Michael has a most puzzling incident to report, between him and Mrs. Elly Patterson:

Aprilbot,

Robotic little sis. I know this may be a little personal to ask, but are you one of those robots equipped to reproduce?

The reason I ask, is because mom and I were talking about you and my mother said the oddest thing, “That Aprilbot is lucky she can’t have children. She can decide what and who she wants to be right now. No waiting.” I replied something about how a robot programmed to look and act like other people was not the best example for whatever point mom was making. Then mom said, “Now Michael. You got to decide what and who you wanted to be because you’re a man and you can’t possibly understand the woman’s perspective.” Then before I knew it, mom had whipped out one of those old photograph albums to illustrate her point.

In one picture, mom is leaning over a topless little Lizzie, lying on her back. Mom said, “Now when I was changing Lizzie’s diaper I was thinking, ‘There was a time when I couldn’t wait to get married.’” I said, “I get it. Lizzie’s lying on her back, half-naked, and looking up with her hand in her mouth, and that reminded you of times when you were the same way and realized you needed to be married.” Mom said, “Michael Patterson. No. No. I was never half-naked. Changing a diaper simply reminded me of wanting to get married.” I said, “Why wouldn’t it remind you of having kids?” Mom said, “Don’t be silly, Michael. Everyone knows it’s the same thing.” I said, “Except for Connie Poirier.” Mom said, “Right. Except for Connie.”

Then mom pointed to the next picture which showed her with a fully-dressed Elizabeth beckoning to me in the picture on what must have been one of those days when it felt like someone put my hair only on one side of my head. Mom said, “Now when I was holding Lizzie after her diapers were changed, I was thinking, ‘Then I couldn’t wait to have a house of my own. Then…for children,--I couldn’t wait!” I said, “Mom, what does having a house have to do with holding Lizzie?” Mom said, “Marriage. House. Kids. That’s the order.” I said, “But mom, you had me before you were living in a house. I thought you were in an apartment.” Mom said, “Don’t interrupt before I am finished.”

Mom said, “Now Michael. Look at this picture. I’m helping you put a shoe on. While I was doing that, I was thinking, ‘…Now that I have all the things I couldn’t wait for-& can decide what & who I want to be..’” I said, “You wanted to be a shoe salesperson?” Mom said, “No, Michael. These are thoughts which would run through my head as I performed these mindless child-raising tasks.” I said, “I suppose that’s why half the time you put my shoes on the wrong feet.” Mom said, “Michael. You are missing the point.” I said, “What is the point?’

Mom pointed to the final picture of her by herself without any kids around. Mom said, “When I was like this, I thought, ‘I’ve got to wait.’” I said, “What? Why?” Mom said, “When you are married, have children, and have a house; you have to wait to decide what & who you want to be.” I said, “I didn’t. Neither did Deanna.” Mom said, “That’s only because I sacrificed my own desire to decide what I want to be for you.” I said, “That explains me, but what about Deanna? I hope you’re not saying Mira Sobinski sacrificed anything for Deanna.”

Mom said, “You are missing the point. I had to wait because I had kids. If I didn’t have to wait I could have been just like the Aprilbot. I am going to talk to her instead of you.”

So, Aprilbot, you might want to say you are one of those robots which can reproduce, or else you are going to get to see some pictures and hear a lot of confusing talk.

Love,
Michael Patterson

That story is quite illogical. Human interactions are complicated. It was kind of you to issue that warning for me, Michael, but unfortunately I did not discover it until after Patterson, Elly asked me if it was possible for me to reproduce. I answered honestly, explaining that producing a bot that can reproduce is almost prohibitively expensive, and if the engineers at the Johnston Institute were to do so, this would mean funneling money away from necessities such as vacations for the entire staff, a steady supply of baked goods for "brainstorming" sessions, and re-education camps for disobedient teenagers.

So, after I revealed my inability to reproduce, Mrs. Patterson burst into tears and gave me a speech about how lucky I am. I didn't know what to do at first, but I remembered that I have a subroutine entitled "Patterson, Elly complains about parenthood." I ran it, and it caused me to say, "You sacrificed your own ambitions for your children. But you did a great job raising them and now you can take satisfaction in having led them to successful adulthood. And now you put the 'grand' in 'grandmother.'" Subroutine told me, "Do not mention that Patterson, April is still in the process of being raised. Patterson, Elly prefers to forget her existence." Mrs. Patterson threw her arms around me and said, "Aprilbot, you are so wise! I hope we can keep you!" I said, "Thank you, Mrs. Patterson. Your children are lucky to have you and someday they might express gratitude." Mrs. Patterson made a "pfffft" sound and said, "Maybe when they're 40!"

Aprilbot