I actually think some kids are little assholes. True story.
I do adore my two little twerps, of course. And I like other little goofs that I am related to. I like kids that are very nice. You know, the ones that are kind and do good things for others. And I also like kids that… well, need someone to like them.
I am not wigged out by the possibility of having kids someday. And so many of my friends and family have kids, that I am pretty used to that concept as well.
Some stories freak me out a little though. A while back I was talking to a girl I dated when I was 18/19(20?) and she has three kids now. She was telling me how her daughter had broken her collarbone when she fell while DRIVING HER BIKE DOWN THE STAIRS IN THEIR HOUSE.
I can’t even imagine that.
Granted, my own kids would more likely be all, “Yeah, howsabout I play a video game involving that, or write you a story about driving a bike down some stairs, motherfucker.”
I expect my kids to swear a lot.
I’d be quick to tell you that having little versions of me running around would be GLORIOUS.
That’s how I’d say it too, “GLORIOUS!”
I’m a little nuts.
But, little versions of me running… well, lazily strolling around is a bit scary. I was kind of a bastard as a child.
You’re shocked. Admit it.
My sister will back me up on this. I would occasionally (by that, I mean frequently) do things just to be a little shit. I could easily take a full day and use it to torture my sister constantly. And I would consider it time well spent.
Still, I’d be curious to see what a little version of me would be like.
Probably a wide-eyed tyke, exploring the world, taking in his surroundings…
While rocking a tiny baseball cap and stubble.