Few days ago, I saw a man in office attire boarding the bus I was on. He caught my eye because he had three things slung across him: his office bag, a nappy bag, and a baby sling carrier (with a baby inside of course).

With his shirt drenched in perspiration, and so many things on him, he was quite the peculiar sight (the sweat stains were obvious because it was a brown shirt and the sweat made it dark-coloured – reminded me of the sweat stains when Leonard first dated Penny, but I’m digressing).

And yet, when he sat down, oblivious to the curious stares of the other passengers, I saw the most benevolent and tender smile on his face while looking down at his baby. Never mind the killer weather, and all the rest of us on the bus. He was soaked and probably tired from his day at work+he had to fetch his baby from (I assume) childcare and squeeze on board  with the rest of the millions of people taking public transport – his child made it all worthwhile.

I always wished that I could have at least two kids before I turned 30 (I’m absolutely terrified of having a generation gap, and one kid is just too lonely sometimes)  but now past 20 I’m not so sure. I’m not sure that I’m capable of taking on this huge responsibility, of being a good father. I’m not sure that I want to start a family at all. I’m also secretly worried that I’d fail at educating the child and he’d turn out to be like me (not to say that my parents didn’t do a good job – they probably tried their best to salvage me). In this case, I’d probably be too bothered by the stares of other people on the bus. I think.

So for now, I’d best just stick to squeezing the cheeks of (other people’s) cute children.