The thing that freaks me out about kids is that they’re pretty transparent. You can tell if they are lying and you can tell if they just want attention and you can tell if they are going to grow up to be a huge ass. And then there are some times you think you can tell that maybe they won’t turn out too bad. Key word here is “think.”
There has been exactly one moment in my life that I thought a kid wouldn’t turn out too bad–one moment in my life in which I felt tenderness for a kid.
I was on my way home from work when I passed a couple of young boys playing in the soccer field. Some of them were really going for it, while some others were just sort of sitting around in the grass, while there was one who was standing up, peering through the fence with his head between the metal bars. What got me about this kid, besides his relatable rejection of physical activity, was that I could see the face of someone else in him. With his curly hair, freckled face, rounded chin and skinny little limbs, he looked just like a younger version of a close friend of mine. Even the way his eyes searched out into the street was familiar. Just as I began to see the potential in every possible human life, we made eye contact. He looked at me and said:
“Can you dab?”
And then it was gone.
Everyone says that I’ll change my mind about the whole kids thing when I’m older. To that I say, wanna bet? If you ask me there are two types of people; people who like kids and people who have been a camp counselor. I’ve seen it all ages 4-13–it’s a whole lot of screaming, it’s a whole lot of trying not to swear in front of the youngins, and it’s not pretty.
I don’t think it would make much of a difference if it was my own child–I feel like the miracle of life is pretty overrated. You want to throw up in the morning? You don’t need to have a bun in the oven to do that. I’ve been looking up articles like “40 great things about being pregnant” to try to understand the appeal, and I feel like there’s an easy alternative to every little thing on those lists. You want to be glowing—buy a highlighter. You want a seat on public transportation—throw some elbows. You want to live longer—shove some kale down your throat. You want to have a secret that only you and your partner share—commit homicide and don’t tell anyone.
And that’s not to mention the disadvantages of pregnancy. It’s scientifically proven that the amount of gray matter—the logical information stuff—in the brain decreases during pregnancy to allow the pregnant person to become more attached to their baby. And I can’t afford to lose any logical thinking. It was only a week ago that I realized it was called “shipping” when you ship a package because goods used to be transported overseas, like, on a ship. On Saturday I got two separate emails about one section and convinced myself I had a time conflict. I practically believe that if I spend money in cash it doesn’t count.
The only thing that appeals to me about having kids is naming them. If I ever have a boat I want to name it “Son of a Fish.” If I ever have a fish I want to get two, a small one and a fat one, and name them “Mistake” and “Big Mistake” respectively. If I ever have a son I want to name him Winslow.
But I’m never going to have a son. There are enough freaks in the world already.