28 March 2011

Baby Talk

Growing up, I would like to think I was a well-behaved kid at least in comparison to the ankle-biters of the world.

Out at restaurants or amusement parks or church, all my parents would have to do is give me the wide eyed stare with a stern, grinding smile and I would stop doing whatever I was doing to piss them off and sit still, pretending to be a miniature blow-up doll. The fear was a spanking that no one - not even the fetish-minded - would want ever inflicted upon their bare arse.

During my college days and well into my first years in the real world, I worked as a server. The most annoying of parties were those with two mommy-friends, one of their nannies, and each of their kids. The little tykes would inevitably hop into a booth and take apart the sugar caddy and salt and pepper shakers, twirling them around over their heads like tweaked-out twinks on GHB twirling around their glow sticks. Even worse, the parents would ignore the kids; Consuelo would be the target of the granular substances; and all would pick-up after having paid the check leaving me with a shit-ton to clean up - with a three dollar tip. Fuckers!

Even now, I abhor children. Sure they're cute and cuddly and all smiles when the stars are aligned, but what when they don't get their way? When they soil themselves? When they trip and scrape their knee? It's Cry Fest 2011, people. They can't reason life is unfair and they can't always get their way; they can't realize crying won't get the poop out of their cracks any faster when the diaper is already being swapped out; they don't just get up, ask for a Band-Aid and keep it moving. I can't deal; I don't have the nerves or the patience.

HOWEVER: last year, my brother married a great woman and just recently, they had their first kid. So there was this boy . . . absolutely adorable! I am an uncle, my friends (or auntie). Holding the little titty-sucker in my arms made me rethink my stance.

Point of the conversation: I think I want a kid . . . and maybe get married, also.

- DeeCue

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