To the parent who gives their child’s age in months,
Congratulations, Mom and Dad, on the new bundle of joy! I, myself would not associate the word “joy” with vomit, defecation, screaming, 2 hours of sleep, drool, snot, sore nipples, strained marriage, and no more personal life, but that’s me. Now before all you parents tear my A-hole apart (What would they call the surgery to fix that? A ‘Wife’s Stitch’???) I know there’s no greater love than that for your child, the reward far exceeds the work, and you don’t care what people think, yada yada yada. Excuse me while I puke…… Do you happen to have a spit-up towel? Oh you do! Thanks!
I’m only kidding, parents. Children are a wonderful blessing and the time you put in now will be rewarded when that kid gets older. By the way, didn’t you forget your dad’s birthday the other day? How’s your mom doing? Oh, you haven’t talked to her in a while? I’m sure she’s definitely not sitting by the phone longing to hear your precious voice and feel the warmth of your embrace. Go ahead and finish that Netflix series before you go out with your friends tonight, this week is about you….
As jealous as I am that you have a child, please, for the love of God, don’t become those parents. You know the ones I’m talking about. The ones where their child is the center of the universe, nothing else matters, and now they speak all pretentious when talking of their offspring. First of all, all you really did was a series of tasks that, when listed out individually don’t really sound that impressive.
1) You orgasmed: Well to be honest, he orgasmed, you just lied there limply and added noises when it was time, more than likely.
2) You realized you had a fetus growing in you: After that night of binge drinking and sharing a doob with some friends, you were still sick the next morning and it didn’t seem like it was from the 5th of McCormick’s.
3) The baby survived for 9 months in your tummy: I don’t know why this is such a fear of mine but it seems like I would run that giant pregnant belly into everything, but you kept a bulbous, round shape to it, so good job!
4) You pooped the baby out your V: This was the hardest task of them all, but kind of unavoidable at this point, so don’t get all high and mighty. I’m sure it hurt a lot but “better out than in” I always say.
5) You kept the baby and are raising it: You better!
Now that you have the child, everyone that you know is feigning interest and asking all kinds of questions about the kid. When someone asks how old the child is, it is only acceptable to say their age in months if the baby is under 9 months old. Otherwise just give me an estimate. I’m not going to go to the Department of Health and verify if you’re telling me the truth! “15 months? No way! The way that thing licks his own snot from his upper lip, I would’ve said at least two years old! Baby Einstein over here folks!”
Here’s the deal; if you’re saying your toddler’s age in months, you are being pretentious. You are vastly overestimating the importance of your child and how much I care about them. In reality, you could answer by saying they’re 16 years old and the person would still just say the same thing that all people say when provided with information they neither care about, nor are listening to. It’s that “Aaawww how precious!” catchphrase. 34 months is 3 years old. 22 months is 2 years old. 18 months is almost 2. That’s all you have to say! The fact that you’re giving people that much detail signifies that you honestly think we really care anything about your moonfaced kid.
Your baby is not that special at all to anyone outside your genetic tree so lay off the extreme detail. We are only asking so that if and when you ask us to baby sit the little shit machine, we know if we can leave it sleeping on its back while we take a stroll through your On Demand late night Skin-emax selection. The only person that needs to know that much detail of a child’s age is your pediatrician. And they only need that information to know in which end to stick the thermometer.
I finished school years ago and really haven’t had to do math since, so don’t force us to calculate the age off the top of our head. I’m not Rainman! “Oh 33 months you say? Why does your five-year-old still wear Huggies?” If you’re giving out the age in months could you at least carry around an abacus so I can take it from you, push all the beads to one side, and bash you over the head with it? Then I’ll pull out my iPhone and do the math on my calculator app. Could you imagine if adults used that same system? I’m a 403 month-old but my wife is still in her 300’s. I guess I’m just one of those creepers that are attracted to younger women….
Lastly, no one except the nurse who types out your birth certificate needs to know your child’s full name. So If I ask what your kid’s name is please don’t give me middle names. I get it; Raymond was your late grandfather’s name so you passed it as your child’s middle name…… I still don’t care. When ased by anyone what your kid’s name is simply say the first name. I don’t need to know that it’s Douglas Raymond Smith. First of all, if I’m hanging out around your baby, we’re friends and I probably know your last name. Secondly, I will never need to know your child’s middle name… ever. It will never be on a round of Jeopardy! But if it was, I am willing to miss that question just so I don’t have to watch your smug face and hear your sing-songy voice tell me proudly the kid’s full name. Just say, “Douglas”. I would even accept the response, “Doug” if you’re into the whole brevity thing.
Just stop thinking your kid is so much more special than every other kid and that anyone cares that much about the information you’re giving us. It is completely fine that they are the most special child to you but don’t have any illusions that everyone else cares as much as you do. Otherwise I don’t plan on seeing you or your progeny until they are well past 72 months.