Let’s premise all of my self-centered viewpoints at the beginning, so you can stop reading if you refuse to accept them. I do not have children. Not one at home with me, not one with a baby momma downtown, and not one whose getting 15 cents a day from me for food in Somalia. No kids.
But I was a kid. Not only was I a kid, but I’ve also seen children. I saw one just the other day, and I’ll probably see one at some time tomorrow. And as such, I’d say that I do have a perspective on children. As a non-parent who has taken public transportation, or had a nice dinner at a restaurant, or even as someone trying to watch a firkin movie in a theater.
If you have a kid, or multiple kids, or you even just like babysitting you have a responsibility to the rest of us. Let’s get a couple of things clear. Children are not all lovey-dovey oh so cute and precious. Your kid is. To you. I’m all for procreation, some parts enthusiastically even. And I’m sure parenting is fulfilling if you can afford it. By all means, knock yourself out. Please.
But for the sake of the rest of us you need to paint that kid’s ass red. Because if you don’t do it early on, people like me are going to have to deal with your spoiled little brat for the rest of our lives.
Your children should be scared of you. I don’t mean in the vicious child abusing sadistic kind of way. Though I’ve met kids that may need that. But you should have wrath, and your kids should be afraid of said wrath.
Because some day they may work for me, and then I’ll have to deal with what you’ve left me. Do your job and mine will be a lot easier. Or get sterilized. I’m flexible about these things.
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