This is why my kid might not want kids of his own

Last Friday, when Ethan was at his grandparents, Matt and I had a chance to catch a late night movie, meaning by the time the movie was done, it’d be way past 9pm. Last time we did that, it was centuries ago.

When we came to pick up Ethan, his grandpa was letting him play with a ball pen with no cap on, which I told him thousand times NOT TO! Not that it’s hazardous, just people don’t use pens to write anymore nowadays, and one day when you have your own children, you don’t want them to refuse to communicate with you just because they don’t know how to text. Better start training them to text.

The next day while we were running out of any suicidal games we could play at home, Ethan started to ask for pens. I knew it was going to happen, so I didn’t try to disobey. Because the price I need to pay for not following his order would be so much bigger than the consequence of having him poke his eyeballs out with the pen.

So, I handed him a pen with some scrap papers. I showed him how to write his name and draw a few items, like star, car, train, flower. When I was done with a rabbit, I said, “Look, Ethan, a rabbit with loooooooooong ears.” He focused on it before turning his head to me and said, “Meow Meow.”

Seriously, if I was told that his own child would be the one who points out how wrong he is with no mercy, and there’s NO WAY WHATSOEVER to confront, I might reconsider the thought of having kids.