Some kids are shitty. You can slam me for that statement, and say things like “all children are beautiful” and “how can you be so heartless?”, but it’s true. I mean, most parents say that when you bear a child, you’ll love it unconditionally. Though I’m not a parent, and while I’m very happy for parents who treat their kids like 18 kilos of 24 carat gold, the undying fear in me remains: what if my kid is a little shit.
Having a child is like buying a lottery ticket: you might get your money back, you might win a mediocre amount, or you might hit the jackpot. When you hit the jackpot, you’re the parent at graduations who smugly strolls in overdressed and says things like “I couldn’t be prouder”. If you’re the parent of a shitty kid, you kind of just hide up the back and look at your feet when your kid gets his terrible OP or SAT or whatever the fuck they’re called.
And it’s not like the shitty kid thing is a fleeting moment in time. I genuinely believe age four is the time a kid can become ‘shitty’. And by ‘shitty’, I mean the kind of kid other parent’s at BBQ’s look at and think, “damn, I’m glad I don’t have to put up with that little sucker”.
A shitty kid is your responsibility for at least 18 years. So unlike the lotto, where the ticket pops out and you win or lose in that very moment, this little terror will be your responsibility for a very long time. And the constant time at home isn’t the worst part. It’s the public appearances; it’s the times you parade the child around in public in-front of other parents: kindergarten, preschool, primary school, high school, university.
Fingers crossed, ay?