Children are a total burden. When I see all of my married friends, begging and pleading with their obnoxious brood to just show some semblance of human decency towards them, desperately trying to hold back the tears of failure, the tears of a wasted life, the tears of a forced loss of freedom, I can’t help but realize it’s worth dying alone than having to deal with all the absolute bullshit that comes with parenting. At least that's what my parents told me.
And really, this is made so much more evident during the Summer months as I see soccer moms and the dad from Cats in The Cradle trying to figure out every single aspect of their children’s day while running low on cash, time and, above all, patience. That’s why I enjoy offering them the unsolicited advice of giving up and just dumping the brats off with a five dollar bill at Old Paris and allowing them to fend for themselves. It’s what many of our pre-coddle society parents did to us and we turned out okay. For the most part.