Children.

29 Mar

That one word is enough to bring a look of pure disgust to my face.  The look is involuntary, too. It just happens.

It’s a widely known fact among my friends and family that I do not like children. And, aside from the fact that they’re sticky, cry all the time for no reason at all, and I have no idea how to talk to them, I think I’ve finally figured out why I dislike them so much:

I’m still a child at heart.  Sure, I go to work every day and pay my bills on time and own a car- but I’d almost always rather be going to the zoo. Or jumping on a trampoline. Or coloring. Or watching a Disney movie.  I’m jealous of all the cool things that kids get to do all the time- and they don’t get made fun of for it!

I came to this conclusion recently while dining at a Friendlys restaurant with my roommate.  When we walked in, we had to wait to be seated.  Why?  Because the dining room was FULL OF CHILDREN! Children who were eating the french fries I wanted to be eating and coloring on the placemats I wanted to be coloring on. They all had balloons, too. I love balloons.

It doesn’t help that whenever I do get the chance to do something fun and reminiscent of childhood, there are always children in my way! Last fall, I went apple picking at a farm with a petting zoo. I was very distraught that I couldn’t pet the miniature horse and that it would have been socially unacceptable for me to push the little kids out of my way to do so.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not against people wanting to have babies or starting a family. I’m a sucker for an adorable baby (as long as it’s clean and not crying) and I’m sure that when my friends start having children that I’ll gladly take on the role of Aunt Bethany and dote on the little tykes. Just as long as they don’t expect me to hold anyone. Or babysit.

Maybe someday the tides will change and I’ll think kids are the coolest.  In the meantime, I’ll continue to complain about crying babies and how sticky kids are and how they make everything they touch sticky, too- especially the menus at Friendlys.

While I eventually did get my french fries, I did not get to color.  Turns out, they don’t give crayons to 28 year olds.

Song of the day: When I Grow Up by Michelle Shocked

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