I have wonderful friends. Smart, observant, thoughtful, accomplished and broadly experienced in the ways of the world. And some of these well-rounded individuals don't have kids. Some chose not to, some had the choice made for them in one way or another. As one dear person put it, "People without children may like children, may want them, may be unable to have them and/or may have lost a child." Which is a great reminder for us all not to assume anything. In the supermarket, at the restaurant and on airplanes, we have all endured the parenting of others.
What I'm not setting out to do is enhance any split between breeders and non, or to paint all people who don't at this moment have children with one tired, hackneyed, divisive brush.
Like hiring an outside consultant to look at your business model, I've asked a few people I admire to examine the available evidence (their personal experience) and offer some thoughts on opportunities for improvement. People whose judgment is not clouded by being in thrall
to their own offspring.
You're not the first person to have a kid, and you won't be the last. I mean you probably won't be the last. And if you are the last, we have bigger problems. But the key takeaway from the people I polled was, "Your kid is totally great, and definitely a special snowflake. Please do obsessively admire your child. It's good for him/her. Please do this on your own time."
The runner-up was very practical. And steeped in truth. And strep: "I don't have all of those lovely and hard-won daycare immunities you have cultivated. Please keep your child's unwashed hands out of the office candy jar and samples display at the grocery store."
In fact, the grocery store came up often. "Hold on to your child while shopping," said one of my sources. "If I want to participate in an obstacle course, I'll join the Marines."
You won't be surprised to hear that restaurants were also popular. "Unruly kids in restaurants comes to mind for me because of a recent scarring experience," says a friend who went on to suggest that a peaceful visit over fast food is far preferable to a finer dining experience tainted by "listening to you toddler melt down bit by bit as bedtime moves further into the past." I think we've all felt her pain.
And a couple of other friendly reminders, offered with a warm smile:
- If it came out of your child, I do not find it charming.
- I do understand that you can't force your child to be quiet on this plane. But it would make me feel so much better if you looked like you were trying.
- Baby talk is inexcusable in public. Even if you're talking to an actual baby.
- You may show me as many photos of your child as you would like to see of my dog, cat or car.
- Do not let your child terrorize my pets while you're visiting my house.
- I'm part of a family, too. Just smaller.
Didn't I tell you these were great people? Of course, it all comes down to standard-issue consideration, regardless of one's personal family status. So I leave with one parting thought:
Please remember how lucky you are to have this special, wonderful child in your life.