Sometimes--often--okay, pretty much every day, I'm estatic at our decision to remain childless. I'm pretty sure having small people around that depend on me for food, shelter and spiritual guidance would disrupt that whole, "Me, Universe, Center" thing I've got going on. 

But I can't help but sometimes think what a great dad Blair would have been. Here are just a couple classic Blair-isms from our time at the beach: 

• We're walking on the beach, looking for shells, examining washed up horseshoe crabs, when we come to this big brown blob, about the size of football helmet. It looks like a cross between a circle of wood and a fossilized horseshoe crab shell. "What is that?" I ask Blair. "Whale poop," he says confidently.