When you go out for a lunch date with the woman to whom you are married (see how deftly I avoided the word “wife” there?), a woman who is beginning to feel weighed down by her ever-growing belly, a woman who has resigned herself to the fact that she is probably going to be a stay-at-home mom not out of a burning desire to stay at home with her child, but because her salary won’t cover both day care and, say, a pack of gum, it’s probably best not to muse, when talking about your two week vacation between a fanciful year at school and a mere twelve-week internship: “You know, I could never be a stay-at-home dad. I mean, with all those errands and stuff to be done, it’s like the day is gone and what have you done? It would just drive me insane. Absolutely insane.”
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