Planned Parenthood

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!