the kids thing.
Most of my life, I’ve thought kids were not the thing for me. They seem to be a lot of trouble, they’re really messy, and they start off really slow in the head and not very intellectually stimulating until they get older. Not to mention, I have a hard time relating to little kids because I don’t really know how to get excited over things like “baby’s first smile” or “baby can feed himself now!” Yeah… when people tell me those things, I think to myself, Well that’s neat. When are they going to learn to make me 8 course meals and make stuff more than macaroni art?
Lately, I’ve been giving the kid thing a bit more thought, and it’s suddenly not such a disgusting idea. Yeah, to everyone who ever told me that one day my clock would start ticking and I would want a kid… I don’t yet want them. The idea of them is just starting to be palatable.
I admit, I’m not very good with understanding kids. I get exasperated with them easily. I don’t get why that pink flower is SO MUCH PRETTIER than that yellow one, or why I would ever in a million years want to take a kid to Disneyland and put up with all the other massive crowds of children.
You know those films where the parents treat their kid just like an adult, and bring them to adult events and expect them to act more mature?My future child will probably be jealous of other kids whose parents relate to them more. That’s sort of how I was raised, so maybe that’s why I will act just like that when I’m a parent. My parents expected me to be a kid, but they also took me travelling with them all over the world and wanted me to be that mature, worldly child, which is sort of what I turned out to be.
Of course, this warps my entire expectation of how to raise kids. I think kids shouldn’t be allowed to eat stuff like chicken fingers when melba toast and paté is available. The entire idea of allowing a child to bring a McDonald’s happy meal to a nice restaurant grosses me out (and I’ve seen that happen with picky children and indulgent parents).
Not like I’m a parent. And not as if I have any child-rearing experience and know how to put up with a crying, screaming child (even though I used to be a pre-K camp counselor and put up with way more crying than a high schooler should ever have to). I guess I just have to hope that my future child is absurdly mature and will put up with being exposed to adult situations and still be able to run and play in the playground, complete with skinned knees and childhood bullies.