DearWife and I involuntarily waited to be parents. I thought I was ready to be a Dad at 25, and I became a Dad at 34. One of the benefits to being parents for the first time when we're a little older is that we have the blessing of some more maturity, without any lessened sense of urgency or paranoia that surrounds being a first time parent.
After returning from the worst move ever on Saturday night, we talked to M.I.L. about what happened at our house while we were at the movie. Quickly the discussion turned into a debate between DearWife wanting to spare M.I.L. the horror of changing poopy diapers and putting down the stubbornly dramatic LittleBrother, and M.I.L. pointing out that she was a pretty good mother and wanted to help out.
Then M.I.L. related a story to me about DearWife when BigBrother was first born, and DearWife was still substitute teaching. One day, she left a note about what the lunch menu should be, and when it should be served, etc. etc. One item on the menu was blueberries. Wife informed her mom that they needed to be quartered. And included a diagram.
DearWife insists that she was joking, but I think she would have put a 'ha ha' in the note.