Are you kiddin’ me?
I’m not a kid person. I don’t mean I loathe them or anything, but I know I won’t be gushing over them the way lesser mortals do. I’m not going to go all “goo-goo ga-ga” and make faces at them. I’m not Jim Carrey. I will also-and this is a fact- not think its cute that a kid has gone and spewed his/her/its lunch on my shoulder.
I suppose the sentiment or emotion that kids evoke in me is more FEAR than anything else. Babies scare me. I don’t know where it came from but the thought always lingers that if I’m asked to carry the child, I may accidentally drop him…or her…or it. Then what will I say? “Oops”?
As luck would have it, I have relatives with child bearing abilities. I know this for a fact because I have nephews and nieces. They are wonderful and everything and I don’t mind looking at them I just don’t want to carry them or anything. For some reason, their parents seem to think that I’m in denial. I am not! I will attend their visiting days soon as they are shipped off to some school whose position, judging by the distance we will cover to get there, will be at the edge of the world’s end. Going by what some of the students look like, the belief will be reinforced.
Last week my cousin came over with her two kids in tow. The younger, a girl knows her stuff. She’ll just chill out and keep quiet…until a negotiation goes wrong. I can’t understand why this happens given that her idea of a trade usually involves offering her brother her itty-bitty pink shoe in exchange for his glass of juice.
So anyway, whilst these kids were around so was another aunt who, quite unlike me is not averse to begging toddlers for hugs proceeded to ask my nephew for a hug or some such thing. Come on, if I did it I’d be screwed, given that I have no recording contract or own a ranch or a pet monkey called Bubbles.
My nephew on his part regarded her with the kind of look that said, “what have you done for me lately?”. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my job as much as any other bloke that gets to wear sandals and a cap to work with no qualms, but my cousin ( the hug requesting one) has a job I’d raze a forest for. The perks and salary and what not are THAT GOOD. If I were my nephew I’d hug my aunt and not my uncle. I’d hug my aunt and spew my lunch on my uncle and giggle with delight as all my other relatives looked at the goop like it was molten gold laced with rubies and pearls… its almost a wonder no pictures are taken or scoops kept for posterity.
Long story short, my nephew at this early age is already misguided. I know this because he hugged me instead.
on 
on