Voodoo Dating: Check Your Children At The Door
As a person, my best friend wins-at life. He’s tall, he’s got great shoes, he’s hysterical, and he’s constantly teaching me to be a better person by not being judgemental. Unless, the topic turns to children. We both don’t dig on the idea of childrens and there’s a whole lot of judgement-without-experience that probably births a litter when we encounter kiddies.
Certainly, I try to balance on my soapbox for various causes, but what is the deal with the Breeders?! (My own spoiler is that unless I know you or am related to you, I don’t give an afterbirth about your children.)
Best Friend Monte and I have had conversations about the following:
1. All children look the same. That’s right, parents, all of your children look like mini alien Winston Churchills. They’re small, they’re bald, they’re crumbly, and you might be the only ones who find them truly attractive.
2. Using your child’s photograph as your Facebook profile picture. Newsflash, it’s not cute-it’s kinda creepy.
3. A ‘Miracle’. Giving birth is not uncommon. Woman have been popping out the puppies forever, so every child’s birth needn’t be ladled as ‘a miracle’. Parents who have painstakingly tried to have children and finally receive their wish-those are miracles. Being able to normally extract four or five children-that’s right up with there with the miracle of borrowing a cup of sugar.
4. My children are my life. ‘Hi. Haven’t seen you in a couple of years. These are my children, Moxie, Roxy, Romaine, and Random.’ Really? The initial and best greeting you have prepared is pointing out your children? Remember when you used to have a job? A Wife? Hobbies? A drinking problem?
5. You had them-deal with it. I understand that children are a lot of work, that’s why I’m never having any. However, parents have to realize that when they get knocked up, there will be diaper changing gigs, and tantrums, and items missing from their Penthouse collection. You’ve had nine months to think about it, so quit yer bitchin’. Sure, you’re exhausted and sick of screaming spit-up, but that ain’t my problem.
Clearly, I would not be the best parent, nor do I wish to be. Therefore, I’ll stick with Monte in our Pollyanna escapades fighting against judgment…and children