San Francisco: We had a lively discussion today around the HarperOne lunch table about parenting. In short, we agreed that it is a good idea.
I was blathering on like I am a good dad when it me: I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE KEATON IS. Keaton is my virtual son. I learned about Keaton on April 1 (really) when the human resources department of HarperCollins added him to my insurance. The last known sighting of Keaton was reported here April 29, when ever-diligent reader Jim “the Consultant” Seybert said “I think I may have seen him trying to buy beer at a 7-11 in Morgan Hill.”
What does it say about me that I could forget all about Keaton? Am I that self-absorbed? Am I the Joan Crawford of bloggers? Do I favor my two brick and mortar children over my virtual child? Do we have to do family therapy? I hate family therapy! I’d rather go to the dentist! Would it be virtual therapy from a virtual therapist? Can I go to a virtual dentist?
So many questions. Keaton, Keaton—where are you, my prodigal son?