My wife and I are both "ambitious," in that she wants to save people's lives and I want to advise strangers on their relationship problems via humorous anecdotes. Because of these lofty goals, we've agreed it will probably be some time before we've got the free time to have kids. So instead, we got dogs the size of fetuses, and treat them like surrogate children that we allow to poop on the floor.

When the dogs are bored of pooping on the floor at home, we like to take them to our local dog park, which is a fenced-in area where they can poop on new, exciting ground they've never pooped on before. This process so fascinates all the dogs at the park that they spend the rest of the time closely inspecting one another's butts to see if they can learn more about the poop that was once there.

Since this phenomenon no longer holds much mystery for me, my mind tends to wander at the dog park. My wife is a lot better at still being amused when our dogs do the same three things they've done since we got them, but, frankly, I get a little bored (I can only imagine how boring real kids will be).

Usually I imagine what I would do if by sheer freak coincidence, all the dogs in the park pooped at exactly the same time. I think I'd probably laugh maniacally and shout "and they called me mad!" The hope that this will one day happen is pretty much the only reason I still go.

Part of me worries that my flagging interest in "the D.P." (you always have to use initials with dogs so they don't know what you're talking about...keeps them from organizing against us) implies that I'll be a distant, cold father, just picking up my children's poop without every really cherishing it.

Maybe I will be distant. Or maybe the fact that I worry means I'll actually be the best father of all time. I guess I won't really know until our first trip to the Child Park to let the kids sniff other kids' butts. Ah, how I ache for that day.