A friend told me that he wouldn't have kids. In fact he wrote a lengthy article about it, as if he were really thinking what he was saying. That gave me pause. Particularly because I already have kids. Since the internet is about being right, I thought I needed to post-rationalize my kids with some undeniable arguments to prove him wrong.
You're gonna appear super smart.
It's a fact in life that anyone in presence of a kid instantly earns an average of 20 IQ points. The reason is simple. Kids are really, really fucking dumb. Seriously, they're like eating-their-own-poop-and-smiling-about-it dumb.
Since IQ 100 is supposed to be a median of population intelligence, if you reduce it to a subset composed of you and your kid, you're above the line, and the kid's under[1]. The more the kids, the further above the line you are, the better you feel.
You'll definitely never look like idiots.
Parents with kids never look stupid. They always appear accomplished. The voice they're using is always perfectly calibrated for social interactions.
Kids will also give you the best excuses to your most inappropriate social behaviours. Once you get kids, you're officially allowed to not shave ("I have kids"), to be late ("aaaah, kids"), to leave early ("I gotta get my kids"), to drive like a dick ("kids on board"), to ditch parties ("sorry, kids"), to be plain dirty ("my kids did it"), to smell like shit ("kids, for some reason") or to have shit on you ("My kid shat on me"). Any of the above without kids is to be associated with a variable degree of sociopathy. But by having kids, anything is to be excused. Else, you gotta be perfect.
They absolutely, always, perfectly behave
Yeah, it[5]'s always the best.
In the end, if you manage to cry less than them, you won the game of life. They're good at it, these fuckers. They rely on advanced torture techniques, including but not limited to: sleep deprivation, emotional rejection, biological weaponry, and terrorism with knives.
All things considered, it's not that hard. Everything you gotta do is survive, feed it once in a while, and make sure it doesn't die[2].
You get a shot at shaping the future...
...by off-springing the worlds' most perfect, advanced, total psychopath.
Being the parent of a renown serial killer, what better way to leave your dent in this world? Do you really think you'll be the next Steve Jobs? Or the next James Cameron maybe? Jay-Z? No-one will remember you once you're dead. No-one. Your wife will gladly remarry. The little money you accumulated, your normal, boring kids[3] will burn on crapy mufflers for their shitty cars.
Your psychopath kid, though, will make a difference. It will make old ladies pay for the kitties you killed when it was young. It will dress in suits made from its fellow coworker's skins to compensate for the constant emotional washing machine he's been in under your watch. All of this pain and suffering will be your unsigned legacy to the world. You will be smiling from above.
They're freaking good at negotiating.
Look at that:
This is a freaking soldier, it is here to bring "peace" with a machine gun. And they're like "hey, take this ball and get the fuck-off", and he's considering it.
Man, get in one of these countries, try to give a red ball to a solider, and look at what they're gonna do to you with the machine gun. I'm telling you, these small things are your best life insurance if something goes sideways.
Best of all you gotta do that.
Mostly to build the kid. But eh, who actually needs to empty their balls once in a while?
But seriously
What stroke me the most, is that my buddy's position is extremely rational. Almost utilitarian. It doesn't consider the things that I cherish the most with the kids: the love, the fascination of seeing them grow, the pride at not having killed them. And the simple fact that we're all there today because someone drank one too-many beer, and couldn't contain themselves.
If you're reading this, you're a freaking winner. You won at life. You may have the worst job ever, no wife, high debt and a lot of stress. Still, you're probably not collecting sulfur from a volcano. You're not in a war zone fearing for your life. You're definitely not sleeping in the street[4], you may even have some form of social coverage. Or you're a proud american! There's no need to prove further to the world that you're a winner.
It's not about who wins at evolution, who gets to perpetrate their name, their genes, their habits, their ways of living or invading other countries. It's not about saving the species, asserting dominance, or helping the country. These are un-voluntary byproducts, in my opinion.
It's about getting someone to live, offer them love, see them grow, get them set to enjoy what yourself are enjoying, enjoy them enjoying what they're enjoying, and enjoy them enjoying that you're enjoying what they're enjoying. Sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's rewarding. But not ever, even through the hardest moments, did I regret exchanging some of my comfort, lots of my money, and most of earth's resources for these guys.
That's why I had a first kid, made a second, and decided to make a third.
Notes
[1]: If you wanna explain to me how IQ is actually calculated, please write a letter about it and eat grass. Fibres have soothing properties for your lower intestines, which could be of use to ease the pain following what I hope you'll picture I would ask you to do with said letter. [2]: Under your watch. Absolutely doesn't matter if it dies while at daycare, you won't get in trouble. You just gotta replace it. That is, if you still want to. No obligations. [3]: Replace by whatever shitty next of kin you currently have. [4]: Or find help before it's dark instead of reading this garbage. [5]: "It", being, of course, "the kid"