Love a Child, Hate a Child
September 13th, 2007.I have developed a seething hatred for the creepy little fuck that lives next door.
I’m serious. This little shit-for-brains has absolutely zero redeemable qualities. He’s dumb. He’s rude. He’s ill behaved. He picks his nose. He’s socially inept. Rather than call you by your name, he’ll instead opt to scream ‘HEY! HEY! HEY!’ at you until you answer him. Hell, he’s not even particularly attractive.
It’s obvious to me why he’s an only child. He’s walking, talking, peeing, pooping, crying, birth control. If he were my child, I would self sterilize and spend my entire life apologizing to society for my faulty genes.
The kid’s Mother lets him spend a lot of time playing alone in the backyard unsupervised. I know this would cause some Mothers to shake their heads judgmentally, but trust me; child molesters don’t want anything to do with this kid.
I’d like to poison his gummy bears.
However, lest you all think I totally hate children, I have a little story to relay.
Just this week, I fired my pet sitter. Yes, I have a pet sitter. Sometimes, I have shit to do but that doesn’t mean my dog no longer needs attention and exercise. I can’t fucking stand people who take on the responsibility of pet ownership only to renege later when they’re bored with them, but that’s a different rant for a different day.
Anyway, I found out my pet sitter wasn’t showing up on time to let my dog out. Therefore, my dog was forced to urinate in the house because she couldn’t hold it any longer. This is, of course, unacceptable to me and it makes me particularly mad because I pay her so handsomely. So, I canned her.
Afterwards, I put an ad in the paper hoping to find an acceptable replacement. All week I fielded calls from people interested in the position. (As I said, I pay handsomely for this service) I found a new pet sitter with excellent references yesterday afternoon and hired her promptly.
However, last night around 8:30, my telephone rang. After picking up the phone and greeting the caller, I heard a small, quavering voice, ask, “Hello?”
Obviously, my caller was a little boy. From his voice, I pegged him somewhere in the neighborhood of 7-9 years old.
“Yes?” I answered.
“Excuse me,” he replied, “But are you still looking for a pet sitter?”
My heart fucking melted.
See, that’s the thing with me. I don’t care if your kid has adorable little pigtails. I’m not interested in his chubby little cheeks. I could give a flying fuck that she says ‘Poll Nailish’ or orders ‘Chitchen noodaw thoup.’ Save those stories for their Grandparents, please, because I remain totally unmoved by them.
If you want to raise a kid who will impress me, produce a child who will call me up and ask in his most adult-like voice, “Excuse me, but are you still looking for a pet sitter?”
If the position didn’t require him to keep a key to my house and handle a dog likely twice his size, I would have hired him, too. It killed me to have to reject him. IT KILLED ME. Because, seriously? That was so fucking cute it made my uterus quiver.
September 16th, 2007 at 11:21 am
[...] It’s obvious to me why he’s an only child. He’s walking, talking, peeing, pooping, crying, birth control. If he were my child, I would self sterilize and spend my entire life apologizing to society for my faulty genes. - Love a child, hate a child [...]
September 17th, 2007 at 4:12 pm
[...] am hoping that Violent Acres may consider being our day care supervisor since Grandad wants the Violence in the Workplace job. I [...]
September 25th, 2007 at 12:45 pm
[...] This weekend, my husband had his kids. Generally, when we have the children, we like to keep them fairly busy, because much like puppies, tired kids are usually well behaved kids. So we ran around all weekend and finally headed for home a couple of hours before the children were to be returned to their Mother. To kill time, the kids decided to hang out in our backyard with the creepy little neighbor boy. [...]