Dating Big Bird
DATING BIG BIRD
“Laura Zigman, author of last year’s bestseller
Animal Husbandry
, has topped herself with this wry novel.”
—W
OMAN’S
O
WN
“Full of wit and charm and insight … You will be rooting all the way for Ellen Franck in this delicious book.”
—N
EWSDAY
“Funny and convincing enough to penetrate the cynicism of readers who still associate parenthood with ‘minivans and portacribs.’ ”
—USA T
ODAY
“The thirty-five-year-old narrator of Laura Zigman’s second novel is undeniably likable … she’d be fun to have drinks with.”
—T
HE
N
EW
Y
ORK
T
IMES
“A tale that makes for laughs and touching moments … well told and funny.”
—K
IRKUS
R
EVIEWS
“The absorbing train of events and amusing dialogue make this a lark of a read.”
—P
UBLISHERS
W
EEKLY
“Charming, witty … an amusing fairy tale.”
—B
OOK
P
AGE
“A light, breezy read, enjoyable.”
—T
HE
W
ALL
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TREET
J
OURNAL
“Often hilarious … [A] clever, zippy new novel.”
—T
HE
D
ETROIT
N
EWS
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REE
P
RESS
“As you read, you’ll laugh yourself into imaginary labor pains, but you also cringe at the poignancy between the lines.”
—T
HE
N
ASHVILLE
T
ENNESSEAN
A Delta Book
Published by
Dell Publishing
A division of Random House, Inc.
1540 Broadway
New York, New York 10036
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events or locales is entirely coincidental. This book has not been prepared, approved, or licensed by any entity that created or produced
Sesame Street
.
Copyright © 2000 by Laura Zigman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
For information, address Dell Publishing, New York, New York.
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®
is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-307-82827-9
Reprinted by arrangement with The Dial Press, a division of Random House, Inc.
Published simultaneously in Canada
v3.1
It’s not that I found Big Bird particularly attractive, it’s just that I thought he would make a good parent.
I mean
father
.
Parent
implied an extended relationship I wasn’t necessarily banking on.
Not that I wouldn’t have wanted an extended relationship. It’s just that I was trying to be realistic. I was thirty-five, after all, and by then I knew the difference between expectation and desire; between love and lust; between boyfriends and fathers.
At least, I was supposed to know.
Contemplating impregnation by an eight-foot yellow bird is just one example of how carried away you can get when you want a child as much as I did.
You have to admit, though, that except for the feathers—and the horizontally striped tights, and the bulging eyes, and that stupid pointy beak—Big Bird would be the ideal parent:
He’s warm.
He’s affectionate.
He’s had a stable job for almost as long as I can remember.
And you’d always know where to find him in case you needed anything later on.
Giving birth to a baby covered in a fuzzy down of yellow feathers would be a small price to pay for such exemplary paternal qualities.
My friend Amy, though, preferred Barney. She would cite his trademark song as evidence of his superior genes:
I love you. You love me. We’re a happy family …
But when I’d point out how a happy family might be beyond our reach but a child wasn’t—she’d reluctantly agree.
Then she’d confess the true reason for her preference:
She liked purple better than yellow
.
Telling people you want to have kids when you’re not married doesn’t exactly go over like
The Red Balloon
. It’s not like everyone you know—parents, married friends, single friends, boyfriends—will be waiting in your own personal receiving line after some wedding or baby shower to congratulate you on having a few too many vodka martinis and transforming yourself into their vision of the living breathing female cliché.
But for once, you’re not feeling like a cliché. For once, you’re not bemoaning your unmarried barren state.
Despite the fact that you are, quite obviously, drunk, you’re in surprisingly good spirits.
In fact, you’re feeling rather empowered.
Publicly expressing your desire to have a child is the first step to achieving it.
Obviously I understood that I would need to prepare for such a radical addition to my life—to feather my nest, as it were.
First, I would need a bigger apartment to make room for a crib.
And a changing table.
And a Diaper Genie.
Two, I would need the crib.
And the changing table.
And the Diaper Genie.
Three, I would need more money.
So I could afford the bigger apartment.
And the nursery equipment.
