Monday, June 1, 2009

If I wanted to hear the pitter-patter of little feet...

I'd hire a dwarf to tap dance in my kitchen.

Seriously. The hubbs and I are nearing the 1-year mark, and I still haven't figured out the best response to the "when are you guys going to have children?" question.

Normally, I'll demurely smile, bat my eyes and reply, "When it becomes socially acceptable for me to leave the little hellspawn in a crate while I am at work."

That typically ends the conversation pretty quickly.

Not that I have anything against kids. I mean, geez, I work around them all day long. Usually, I don't end up wanting to punch them in the face. Nor do I harbor any ill-will to people who have had children. I mean, my parents did, and I'm pretty glad of that.

But there are some folks who just assume you can't wait to start poppin' 'em out as soon as the ring is on your finger. And to them I say: Eff that. I would much rather spend my money on shoes and fancy coffee beverages than diapers and formula, and old-ladyish as my cardigans are, I'd really rather they not be covered in baby regurgitation.

So to answer their question, we will have a child when the Hubbs can carry it, nourish it, and most importantly, deliver it. As soon as we win the lottery and can hire a full-time nursery staff. As soon as infants start being born potty trained. As soon I can trade a baby for Manolos. As soon as they make babies with "off" buttons, and as soon as I stop wanting to throw wadded up balls of wrapping paper at ever gurgling babe I see.

No comments:

Post a Comment