Stop Telling Me, “You’ll Want A Kid Someday”
Must I be old and gray to prove I’m childfree?
My neighbor’s child, an adorable round-cheeked girl always bedecked in dresses and costume jewelry, zoomed in front of me, giggling wildly. Her father brought up the rear, smiling in that “I’ve had enough of this shit but it’s still pretty cute” kind of way. “You want her?” he asked playfully.
I shook my head. “My cat’s hard enough.”
“You’ll want one someday!” he says as he follows his daughter down the outside railing to his apartment. This, from the man with a sticker that says “Big Knockers” on his Jeep. Just the person I need life advice from.
“Fat chance,” I muttered under my breath. I could barely deal with the messes that my cat, Genji, made. The messes and screeches of a small child would be enough to drive me insane.
It’s not that I don’t like kids. I love other people’s kids, especially since I remember so vividly what it was like to be one of them. I try to relate to them, joke with them, and make them smile. But I just feel awkward around them, like they know I’m also just a kid in an adult’s body.
At what age do I get to prove to people I’m not having children? Will I be forty with nosy men telling me that I’ll eventually want to procreate, just wait…
