Most people who know me are aware that I don’t have much time for kids. (I now include 25 year olds in this category. The age rises as I get older). I don’t hate kids, I’m just selfish. Kids are just so demanding. Mostly I can’t be bothered making time for those demands. If I ever waver in this mindset I have found that a visit to someone who is afflicted with children will quickly reinforce my desire not to be tempted to have any of my own. (Going to the shopping centre also works.)
It’s got to be a strange set of circumstances that leads people to breed these parasitical beings in the first place. Chuck on the blinkers and you can’t see those red-faced screamers chucking a tantrum for a Freddo Frog. Maybe it’s a survival instinct thing that kicks in causing an oversupply of parental hormones that floods their brains and ensures humanities continuing dominion of this planet. Whatever it is there’s far too many people breeding.
I’ve made time to think about this problem for the last five minutes. Here’s why I reckon people have kids. It all comes down to economics.
The most logical reason to continue to raise a child, despite its shortcomings, can be broken down to a percentage of positive return. These days we’re happy enough to get a 10% to 15% return on our investments, right? Well let’s be generous and say that your kid behaves, does something cute or show its love for you about 20% of the time. (There’s going to be a lot of arguing about this amount but I’m taking into account the teenage years when your kid hates you 100% of the time.)That’s a 20% positive and 80% negative or neutral return. And you are expected to be grateful for that amount? You’re stuck with this person for 16 years minimum. Seems to me that’s a long investment periods for very little payout. Must make a parent feel especially low when the self-centred little shit disappears on a year-long doped up holiday with their loser friends, only calling when he or she is out of cash or in gaol. I’ve got two words for this: steel caps, applied to the head.
I don’t know how many times a person has envied my childless freedom only to guiltily add “I wouldn’t swap them for the world though”. Yeah right, I’d trade mine for a bottle of rum as soon as the bugger didn’t do as he or she was told.
I also have the reasonable expectation when I visit someone with kids, I expect their children to use some of that positive 20% reserve for the entire period that I’m there. Bodily functions are to be withheld and maximum cuteness, quietness and general happiness shall be employed at all times. So far I’m not having much luck with these demands.