It began as a joke to embellish my tomboy-ness about 5 years ago. First with a flippant “I’m never having kids,” while passing an ill-tempered child in public. After a few refrains, my friends doubted me, and I modified: “Fine, but definitely not a girl—Little girls are the devil.”
My obnoxious mantras continued to churn, with more than a few eyerolls, to solidify into a fully-fledged life plan for parenthood. The more I recount the plan, the stronger I buy-in to it, and the closer it moves to fruition. Here it is—
I’m going to adopt a 6-year-old boy. No, really. I’m doing it. “Why,” you ask? The benefits are great. Consider that by jumping into parenthood with a 6-year-old, you can:
- Avoid pregnancy, childbirth and all related plagues of that bitch, Eve.
- Ensure gender
- Pick a cute one
- Administer personality and/or IQ tests, if necessary
- Send him to school full-time
- Evade career-limiting maternity leave
- Have a walking, talking, potty-trained child
- Delay parenthood for six years, and jump-in on a “normal” timeline
- Have an adult child to entertain you and care for you when you’re retired and bored
At this point, whatever aghast listeners I am selling usually nod reluctantly to acknowledge the validity of at least some of my argument. Thinking that I surely have not thought this through, they ask follow-up questions hoping to crumble a house of cards. They’re very wrong. Examples:
Q: But you don’t really want to miss those adorable baby and toddler years, do you?
A: Yes, I do. They are only adorable when you can give them back so they don’t vomit on you and scream in your ear all night. At least when a 6-year-old screams, he can communicate what’s wrong.
Q: Wouldn’t you be nervous about emotional or developmental challenges that might come with adopting a child that old?
A: As already stated—A child that old is relatable with a defined, assessable personality. Best-case scenario involves some sort of return policy written into the adoption contract that I never have to use. Worst case scenario will be my nanny’s or stay-at-home-husband’s challenge. I will not be the primary caregiver, given my goals to build a successful career and have a life. And, all else failing, there’s always boarding school…which is decidedly less harsh when he’s not technically even my child, anyway.
See? I said it was thought-through. Read it a few more times and notice how the plan becomes increasingly attractive. I’ve since moved to bartering for my pregnant friends’ unborn children. I figure, if they haven’t met the kid yet, I’m more likely to convince them to keep it for only six years, incubating in a safe, socializing family environment—Perfect!