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Why I can’t have kids: in a convenient list format!

16 Oct

Anyone who has ever spoken with me for longer than 30 minutes knows of the frightened lurch I display when they start talking about children. Including babies. Oh, especially babies. The problem with facebook at my age (other than the fact that it consumes my life) is that almost 20% of the posts now are of people congratulating themselves on their pregnancies and adorable newborns, uploading daily photos of their bundles of joy or their increasing maternal girth. It’s not that I hate babies or that I was traumatized as a child with crying infants surrounding me in a wall of death. I just don’t know what to do around them. I’ll read encyclopedias to them and talk to them about politics, and their blank stares and mild cooing are not all too different from the typical adult reaction. But playing with them, entertaining them, making sure they are emotionally and physically involved and growing…no. We don’t mix in a socially standardized manner. One can only look at my mother and see where I got this trait from. Our next door neighbors brought their cute little one year old daughter out to the backyard while my mother was outside. Being the friendly neighbor she remarks upon the adorableness factor of their female spawn and smiles at the child. Who immediately begins to cry and scream hysterically. Hilarious. But not pretty. So I decided to find out why exactly I should never partake in procreation.

1. They poop all the time. Enough said.

2. They can’t wipe said poop. My cousin is a great example of this disability. We visited her family when she was about 5 or 6 years old. At some point in the day she went upstairs to do her thing while the rest of us mingled nonchalantly in the living room without noticing. All of a sudden my calm and peaceful morning is interrupted by a loud shriek of “MOM I’M DONE POOPING” wailing above us. Fortunately we were in a family setting so the mention of poop wasn’t as jarring as the realization in my eight year old mind that kids can’t wipe themselves. It was shocking, disturbing, and tainted my image of my entire family for years to come.

3. They don’t blink. I only recently learned this from having a staring contest with a toddler at church. After an agonizing minute it dawned upon me that soul suckers naturally don’t need to blink; it gets in the way of the very act of soul sucking.

4. They destroy everything in their path. No document is dry, no safety cup is safe enough, and paper towels are suddenly more valuable than gold. Young children are never far from their own personal trail of dirt, slobber, food, and virgin tears.

5. They understand revenge. Raising a dog is simple. Command, obey, treat. Command, fail, try again (times nx), succeed. For children: command, fail, try again, child tries to grab your nose in retribution and stuffs gummy bears up it. The same child usually grabs onto hair and somehow gets their mouth all over it, laughing at you with a dark glint in its eye.

6. They will automatically be born into the self-entitled generation. It’s bad enough hearing people my own age say that it’s not fair that the world isn’t helping them become successful. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have children gripe about what they “deserve” as well. So I don’t give you a cell phone on your 6th birthday, get over it and go play in the dirt.

There’s a reason I’m a dog/cat/hamster/bunny/non-human-creature person. I do this for the well being of society.

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Posted by on October 16, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

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