The first panel of this comic is based largely on the interactions of my two oldest children. My 5-year-old son is a perfectionist and a know-it-all, and my 4-year-old daughter loves to use that to her advantage. One of her favorite ways of irritating him is to mess up information on purpose.

The leggy blonde behind the microphone clears her throat one final time. The capacity crowd—already restless in anticipation of the first pitch on Opening Day—struggles to temper themselves. The players line the base paths, hats over hearts, shifting their weight from leg to leg as nerves tighten. Finally, a silky but dynamic voice fills the stadium.

Having reached a stage in my life where all my friends, acquaintances and well-wishers are all on the verge of, if not already, starting their families, and by proxy their adult lives, there’s a lot of pressure to live up to the expectations of, well, everybody. Sure, some people are all about the nuclear family unit with the 2.5 kids, golden retriever, goldfish, and a decaying elderly relative confined to a rickety rocking chair in the den, and I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought about the very same (sans the goldfish), but is it worth it?

I don’t know why Kate and Ben are being so grumpy in this comic. Who doesn’t like pairs?

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