my son the cyclops

if i were ever to bear a child, and this child was "differently abled" because he was born with one large eye in the middle of his head as opposed to two normal sized, evenly spaced eyes, i think i would be happier. my mythic one-eyed offspring. sure i'd have to keep him under close watch for the first few years; making sure he doesn't fall or tumble and scrape that giant cornea of his; but his school years would be where my love would really shine.
wouldn't he get teased a lot? you may ask.
no. he would not. because unlike most parents of "differently abled" children, who repeat to their child over and over again 'you're just like everyone else!', i'd constantly remind him, 'son, you're better than everyone else. a higher being.'
and when the other kids did make fun of his bulbous, glassy eye, he'd always have the best responses.
fuck off.
this eye can see through time.
i can see what's in your stomach right now.
i can see right through your poorly made clothes.
this eye can release laser beams.
my contact lens is worth more than your parents house.
my dad owns better records than your dad.
and, inevitably, through equal doses of fear and respect, he would rule the schoolyard with a mighty iron fist.
my son, the cyclops.