Shining Raichu
Expect me like you expect Jesus.
- 8,959
- Posts
- 13
- Years
- Age 33
- Australia
- Seen Nov 20, 2023
If there's one thing you need to know about my mother, it's that she. wants. grandchildren. I know this because she makes it perfectly clear at every opportunity available to her. She works in a toy store and often comes home with brand new toys that she found cute, which she shoves in the attic to preserve 'for her future grandchildren'. The problem with this is that I would prefer having a gunshot wound to having children, and if my sister's disdain at the prospect is anything to go by, she feels the same way.
The interesting thing about telling my mother this (as I have done at every opportunity available to me) is that her reaction is identical each time. She smiles sweetly and says, "you will one day." Her eye then begins to twitch, as though she's fighting off a demonic possession. She stares at me for a few a moments before abruptly nodding and walking away, apparently satisfied that if she hasn't convinced me, she's at least managed to convince herself.
But I won't one day. It's not even a possibility, because not only do I not want children, I also don't like them. I actively cannot stand them, and the following are the top five of many reasons why:
1- Jam Hands
No matter how much or how often you wash a child's hands, they are always sticky, like they take their hands from the tap and immediately stick them in a giant vat of jam. My theory is that it's nature's cruel joke to play on parents: while they try to work out what the hell their child has been doing to make them sticky for the fifth time that hour, what they don't know is that the child has been doing nothing - the sticky substance, never quite the same twice in a row, is actually secreted from within their skin. Either way, I have no patience for jam hands.
2- They're Major Buzzkills
Try making plans around a baby. Go on, try it. I dare you. Try finding the sucker willing to take care of your baby for an hour while you run out to the grocery store. Even doing something as simple as having sex would be nearly impossible with a child around (although considering having sex is how you got yourself into this silly mess, perhaps you shouldn't be messing with the fates a second time anyway).
Here in Australia, movie theatres have tried to be new-parent friendly by holding "Mums & Bubs sessions" of certain movies in the middle of the day. The problem is, they only advertise this on the website, and the cashiers often don't warn you you're walking into a Mums & Bubs session when they sell you the ticket. And of course, to the general public, a Mums & Bubs session (man I'm sick of typing that) is code for "no b****ing when a baby begins to scream, as it invariably will."
3- Nails on a Chalkboard
There is a sound. This sound makes my skin crawl, my hair stand on end and my spine tingle. It is a sound emitted by a child when they do not get something they want. It starts with what could best be described as a high-pitched whine, and when that happens, it's best to walk away, because what comes next is the most irritating thing that will ever reach your ears. That's right, it's the 'er'.
This is when they add 'er' onto the end of every word they say. "Nooooer", "Pleaseeerrr", "But I want iterrr". This makes me want to tear off my own arm just so that I have something to throw at them. And when, one sunny day, a child does not return home, you readers will know why. And you will say, "I knew this day would come."
4- The Beige Carpet Factor
There comes a time in every man's life when he must choose: does he want nice things, or does he want children? If you get something shiny and new, a child will do one of the following: break it, vomit on it, defecate on it, pee on it, attack it with jam hands (it's super effective!), chew it or swallow it. I want the option of beige carpets.
5- The Only Thing I Ever Feared(Obscure Harry Potter reference ftw)
My greatest fear on Earth - even above withering to death old and alone with my cat that the plan-for-the-worst part of my brain has already named Toby for his Toby Maguire-esque good looks and sassy attitude gifted to him by the genetic engineering technology of 2078 - is a coughing child. I'm afraid of them in the way I'm afraid of snakes and spiders - I don't want them to infect me with their poison, only in this case it's more threatening as the poison is transferred airborne from a sticky, sweaty little gremlin who can't even muster the common sense to cover their mouth, let alone a decent immune system.
-
So as you can see, I would not be a good fit for fatherhood. Making my life revolve around somebody else - from the psychic-failure torture of attending to a screaming baby to giving advice to a teenage son - revolts every fibre of my being. I hope my sister finds a nice Catholic boy who can't live without children, because I won't even tolerate them in my vicinity, yet it would be nice not to have to check my mother into an asylum the day that eye twitch becomes more than just a tick.
The interesting thing about telling my mother this (as I have done at every opportunity available to me) is that her reaction is identical each time. She smiles sweetly and says, "you will one day." Her eye then begins to twitch, as though she's fighting off a demonic possession. She stares at me for a few a moments before abruptly nodding and walking away, apparently satisfied that if she hasn't convinced me, she's at least managed to convince herself.
But I won't one day. It's not even a possibility, because not only do I not want children, I also don't like them. I actively cannot stand them, and the following are the top five of many reasons why:
1- Jam Hands
No matter how much or how often you wash a child's hands, they are always sticky, like they take their hands from the tap and immediately stick them in a giant vat of jam. My theory is that it's nature's cruel joke to play on parents: while they try to work out what the hell their child has been doing to make them sticky for the fifth time that hour, what they don't know is that the child has been doing nothing - the sticky substance, never quite the same twice in a row, is actually secreted from within their skin. Either way, I have no patience for jam hands.
2- They're Major Buzzkills
Try making plans around a baby. Go on, try it. I dare you. Try finding the sucker willing to take care of your baby for an hour while you run out to the grocery store. Even doing something as simple as having sex would be nearly impossible with a child around (although considering having sex is how you got yourself into this silly mess, perhaps you shouldn't be messing with the fates a second time anyway).
Here in Australia, movie theatres have tried to be new-parent friendly by holding "Mums & Bubs sessions" of certain movies in the middle of the day. The problem is, they only advertise this on the website, and the cashiers often don't warn you you're walking into a Mums & Bubs session when they sell you the ticket. And of course, to the general public, a Mums & Bubs session (man I'm sick of typing that) is code for "no b****ing when a baby begins to scream, as it invariably will."
3- Nails on a Chalkboard
There is a sound. This sound makes my skin crawl, my hair stand on end and my spine tingle. It is a sound emitted by a child when they do not get something they want. It starts with what could best be described as a high-pitched whine, and when that happens, it's best to walk away, because what comes next is the most irritating thing that will ever reach your ears. That's right, it's the 'er'.
This is when they add 'er' onto the end of every word they say. "Nooooer", "Pleaseeerrr", "But I want iterrr". This makes me want to tear off my own arm just so that I have something to throw at them. And when, one sunny day, a child does not return home, you readers will know why. And you will say, "I knew this day would come."
4- The Beige Carpet Factor
There comes a time in every man's life when he must choose: does he want nice things, or does he want children? If you get something shiny and new, a child will do one of the following: break it, vomit on it, defecate on it, pee on it, attack it with jam hands (it's super effective!), chew it or swallow it. I want the option of beige carpets.
5- The Only Thing I Ever Feared
My greatest fear on Earth - even above withering to death old and alone with my cat that the plan-for-the-worst part of my brain has already named Toby for his Toby Maguire-esque good looks and sassy attitude gifted to him by the genetic engineering technology of 2078 - is a coughing child. I'm afraid of them in the way I'm afraid of snakes and spiders - I don't want them to infect me with their poison, only in this case it's more threatening as the poison is transferred airborne from a sticky, sweaty little gremlin who can't even muster the common sense to cover their mouth, let alone a decent immune system.
-
So as you can see, I would not be a good fit for fatherhood. Making my life revolve around somebody else - from the psychic-failure torture of attending to a screaming baby to giving advice to a teenage son - revolts every fibre of my being. I hope my sister finds a nice Catholic boy who can't live without children, because I won't even tolerate them in my vicinity, yet it would be nice not to have to check my mother into an asylum the day that eye twitch becomes more than just a tick.
