No Children, Thank You!

Some personal information about me…I have no children.  I don’t like children, I don’t think they’re cute, and I certainly don’t want to have one right now.  Thankfully my fiancé is of the same ideology.  She may want them some day later, but she doesn’t want any right now.

I, however, don’t want any…ever.  The younger a child gets, the less I want to deal with it.  Ever since I was old enough to hold myself up my family has tried to pawn their children off on me.  As soon as my mother decided I didn’t need a babysitter anymore, I got solicited to watch other people’s children.

I politely (at first) declined.  Every opportunity people offered to let me watch their kids, eventually offering me perks such as free TV and fridge raiding permission.  They even offered to bring the child to my home so that I could remain in my own domain and simply watch the child there.  Not to mention the money…for the poor family I came from, everybody always seemed to have enough money to throw at a babysitter.

“Man, they’re gonna shut the power off if I don’t pay that light bill!” an aunt would exclaim; immediately followed by, “Oh hey, would you watch my daughter for me when I head out to the bar to troll for bill-paying men?  I’ll give you $20 that I don’t have to spare.”

Okay, well maybe they said it a little more diplomatically than that, but you get the idea.  Either way they were always offering me stuff to watch their children.  And tempting as the offers may be, I knew two important things that always prevented me from accepting.

1. I don’t like children, at all.  I’m not going to play with your child, so he’s going to be starved for attention and bored the whole time.  I may not like them, but I think they probably deserve better than that…so find a real babysitter.

2. I think children are generally plague-filled balls of disgusting habits, traits, and features.  If your child chokes, I’ll call an ambulance…but I’m not sticking my finger into that throat to dislodge a life-threatening piece of hotdog.  Likewise, if the kid craps his pants…he’s gonna have a crusty ass by the time you show up; and if he shits on the floor, you’re paying a lot extra.  Like brand new carpet extra.

So in the end, it was always in everyone’s best interest I not watch children.  So that was when my brilliant mother stepped in and accepted for me on an occasion or two.  Of course, since she didn’t have to watch the children and it was me doing all the work…no payment was considered necessary.  I’m not sure why she thought it was okay to rope me into this stuff for free, if I wasn’t willing to do it for pay.

Whether it was a cousin who felt we had some kind of bond of kinship, even though I only saw them once or twice a month and tried to avoid them like a rat-born plague; or her best friend’s creepy daughter who once sidled up to me on a chair barely big enough for my own ass…looked me in the eyes, stuck a hand down her pants, and in her sweetly innocent five-year-old voice said, “This is where the man puts his penis and warms you up.”

Pics or it didn’t happen!

Needless to say, I’ve never developed a liking to children of any brand.  I get along with teens, depending on how they were raised, pretty well.  I don’t get on much with the rebellious antsy kids or the ‘ghetto’ kids who keep their designer jeans hanging down to their knees and complain about how rough a life they’ve got in between the counting sessions of their $50 a day allowance.

As I recently mentioned, I worked for my money all my life.  I don’t need to hear about how your allowance barely covers your cell phone bill because you can’t constrain your texting.  You’re 9 years old, put down the phone and pick up a damn stick and for god’s sake pretend it’s a frickin’ sword, or a wand, or a conductor’s baton!  I don’t have time for your first world problems…I’m busy trying to drive past the homeless Navy Veteran without making eye contact goddamn it!

I know, right?!

What does any of this have to do with anything at all, you ask?

Why don’t you simmer down and stop interrupting me, and I’ll tell you!

Anywhow, now that I’m in my adult years it’s no longer whether or not I want to babysit for someone else (oddly enough nobody ever offers to let me watch their kids anymore, maybe they read my blog?).  Now it is a matter of when I’m going to get children of my own.  Except that I don’t want any, and I still don’t like children.

“That’ll change when you get one of your own.”

Yeah, some time-sucking beast that has no self-sufficiency and does nothing but whine, create messes, and force me to enter hospitals to make sure it isn’t dying.  At least if I get a dog and screw it up, I can just shoot it and bury it so no one knows what happened.  Friggin’ cops ask about disappearing babies.

What kind of drum?

I’m never going to like babies, not even my own.  Especially since I don’t want them.  Try giving a dog to a cat person and see if they enjoy your gift.  Now introduce that dog to them by having it bite them in the abdomen and cause hormonal distress to their bodies for 9 months and finally have them claw the hell out of their kitties (that’s a pussy joke, meow).  On top of that tell them they have to pay for his shots, grooming, food, regular collar changes and then add in that it will take years to house-train him and they’ll have to use expensive types of newspaper when he poops.  See if they really like the dog, or if they just claim they do so they don’t look like bad pet owners.

Lots of people hate children…lots of people hate their own children.

Sorry, they can’t all be funny…

So, convincing me that everything will change when I have one of my own is faulty logic.  That’s like saying, “I know you can’t fly, but when you jump out that 2nd story window, you’ll be perfectly fine; you’ll even be better off than before.”  Sure there’s a chance I’ll leap out that window and land on a pile of hundred-dollar bills.  There’s also a pretty good chance I’ll land on this fancy thing called concrete and shatter both my kneecaps.

So it annoys the shit out of me when people assure me I’ll suddenly change my way of thinking when my fiance pops a disgusting, blood-covered, hairless monkey out of her crotch and the doctor asks if I want to sever its connection to my wife with a pair of scissors.  I can already feel my love for the creature blooming.  After causing pain, discomfort, and stress for the woman I love with all my heart for 9 months, I’m now supposed to elevate you to a position over her for the next 18 years?  Good luck with that, chum.

And if they don’t go for the mind-altering route, they’ll go on an even crazier tangent, “You’ll change your mind about kids in a few years.”

Are you sure about that?  Totally positive?  Because you see, I’ve hated children for about twenty years now.  In five years I’m going to suddenly  turn to my fiance and say, “Holy shit, hon!  Burn the condoms, I want a kid of my own!”  The only possible way I’d want a child anytime soon is if I find a nice Chinese man willing to buy him for more than I think an OBGYN would charge to get the kid out of her in the first place.  And that’s really not a healthy father-child relationship.

You know, kiddo…daddy was gonna sell you to a nice Chinese man, but the police caught him before you were born. That’s why daddy won’t look you in the eye.

Most people shrug me off, but an article I saw recently has vindicated me!  If you think I sound crazy, read this article to see that I am not a fringe minority.  There are others out there who do not want children!  READ IT!!


Okay, admittedly they might not be as psychotic as I am, but they still don’t want kids.

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. tammy
    Jul 30, 2012 @ 23:07:25

    awesome! hahahahahaha! i am a child lover but i really like this :)!


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