Don’t get me wrong, my niece is the greatest thing in the world. She’s also a genius. But other than her, I could take or leave most kids.
**NOTE: Just to be clear, I wouldn’t actually take a kid. “I could take or leave it” is a saying. It’s not meant literally.
If some kid goes missing, I don’t want to be a suspect because one of you read my blog and wanted to get back at me for the belly dancer post. (Yes, people are still mad about it.)**
People always talk to me about their kids. I don’t know if it’s because my “fluffy” stomach looks like I recently pushed out a love nugget, or if the constant stains on my clothes suggest I have a toddler at home who can’t feed herself.
For whatever reason, people tell me stories about their kids,complete with photos and stories ranging from Lizzie’s first poopy in the potty to Joey’s first accidental curse word.
“Isn’t it so funny?” They’ll say. “He tried to say ‘ship’ and he said ‘shit.’ Get it?”
Yes, I get it. It’s not cute, mostly because Joey has a lisp and needs to see a speech therapist and Lizzie is 7. That’s NOT an impressive poopy.
In response to people showing me photos of their spawns, I try to show photos of my dogs, but I don’t get an excited reaction. Is that fair? Of course not.
The favor should be reciprocated.
I can assure you, I don’t want to stare at 15 photos of your baby doing the exact same fricking thing in every photo.
She’s asleep. I get it. She drools. Noted.
Now look at this photo of my dog chasing his tail.
I’ve decided it’s time to make a list of reasons why my dog is better than your kid. You knew it was coming.
1. My dogs are cuter.
Look at that face. For reals. How can you say no to this fuzzy face? Answer: You can’t…unless you’re heartless…or blind…like seriously blind.
2. They don’t eat dirt (most of the time).
It’s because little Jimmy has a “brown mouth” because he’s constantly shoving fistfulls of dirt into it.
It’s okay. I won’t judge. He’s obviously going to be a tree hugger when he gets older. He’s just starting a little lower…like at the roots.
3. My dogs are potty trained (most of the time).
They know to go to the door and whine to go out. Now, whether I hear the whining or not, is another issue entirely.
4. Their whining can be stopped with a Milkbone.
This is true most of the time. Sometimes it’s a combination of a Milkbone, a bag of Beggin’ Strips and a peanut butter filled Kong that does the trick.
Either way, it’s a lot easier to quiet my whining dog than it is to quiet your whining baby. My dog’s breath also smells better.
5. They’re neutered.
Since I had their balls removed, I no longer worry about seeing that red rocket come out at uncomfortable times. (If only the same was true of my husband.)
I don’t worry about the dreaded red lipstick coming out when guests are over. I also don’t have to wonder why the sheets are crusty, or why they’ve locked themselves in the bathroom for an hour.
6. They don’t have body hair in strange places.
Your son’s two armpit pubes are creeping me out, and so is his “muscle shirt” that looks remarkably like a girl’s tank top.
The glitter isn’t helping.
7. They hump less than your kids do.
Your little angel Christina? She’s hooching it up on the weekends with her sasssy top and skirt that shows her hoo-ha when she sits down.
Since I’ve had my the reproductive organs removed from my babies, I don’t have to worry about unplanned pregnancies or child supports.
I do, however, still have to worry about STDs. But then again, so does Christina.
They get the same dinner every night without fail, no exceptions.
However, I guess if I had kids, they’d probably get mac and cheese with fish sticks every night for dinner, so maybe this isn’t very compelling.
Wait, mac and cheese and fish sticks are what I eat for dinner every night.
If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for the kiddos.