Pondering one of life’s toughest questions: How many children should I have?
There’s a cricket behind the fridge. He chirps all day. He chirps all night. Only a teenager’s tongue works harder.
I tell Posh that it’s not the end of the world. To me, this cricket represents campfires and s’mores. To her, he represents infestation. First kids, now this.
Sat at a table of young parents at a banquet recently and the question of how many kids is enough came up. One couple insisted that two is the ideal number of kids; another said four. I immediately added: “None is nice,” to which everyone thought I was joking.
Look at the photo of the toilet paper holder. That is the work of children. Now do you think I’m joking?
Another parent asked: “How do I know for sure that my children are possessed? Is there a special thermometer? Should I consult a priest?”
The answer is simple: These days, most children are possessed. Again, look at the smirking, lopsided toilet paper holder. Does that look like the work of a sane person? No, that is the work of some alternative life form.
I blame children for everything. In our house, all our drawers are junk drawers. They overflow with pumpkin-carving tools, pencil stubs and old bottles of Liquid Paper. If you’re looking for the last existing bottle of Liquid Paper in America, it’s in one of our drawers.
I have no idea how one house can have 10 junk drawers; then again, look at that toilet paper holder.
So I blame our kids for most everything. Maintenance is constant. No one can keep up. In response, they seem a little spoiled. At the very least, greatly ungrateful.
And it’s not just our kids. Get a load of those little snots at Scripps College who denounced Madeleine Albright as their commencement speaker. Purportedly, they preferred Ellen, or some blogger who wrote about cupcakes and panties.
Which is what makes them little snots. And why, for the next few years, when a prospective employer sees Scripps College on a rsum, she will merely laugh.
Life has consequences. Life has crickets.
But if children seem possessed these days, who can blame them? In truth, our children might be the only things that are right with the world anymore. Their parents are worry warts, and their political leaders are like a lame network comedy. Each day, 10,000 loyal workers are replaced by some new app.
Then there is the reality of what we’ve left them. The sky is nearly flammable, the drinking water is turning to goo. Yet children laugh, they play, they act as if everything will turn out just fine.
Knowing the stress that many kids are under, I asked the little guy the other day whether his classmates ever cry. He said, yes, sometimes the high-achievers will break down if they don’t get a perfect score on a test.
I asked him whether he ever cried, and he scoffed. “Me? I get a 90 and I’m, like, ‘Sweeeeeeeet!’” he said.
He’s finishing seventh grade, at that age when I still remove his splinters for him. He’s tough, just not impervious.
And when we walk the dog, he will stop and move snails out of the middle of the road to keep them from being run over. One snail at a time, he is saving the planet.
The other night I fell asleep in “the thinking position,” leaning forward, with my elbow on my knee and my hand under my chin, a Socratic snooze.
There’s a lot to ponder lately. Much like the holidays, May is a train wreck of events and obligations. For some reason, most of our friends have children graduating from college, within days of each other, in fact.
I asked Posh the other day, “Did we maybe miss an invite to an orgy?” Because how else do you explain this mass birth 21 years ago? It’s almost spooky.
Posh has never been much for orgy talk. She responded the way she usually does lately, while walking out of the room, muttering in the opposite direction. Kids these days.
Speaking of which, as far as having children goes, I’ll admit that “none is nice.” Yet four is OK too.
For one thing, they’re such a help around the house (see photo -- again).
For another, they are our laughter -- and the sweet, last-remaining hope for snails.
Twitter: @erskinetimes
The Happy Hour Hiking Club, a “drinking club with a hiking problem,” has added a second hike around the Rose Bowl. It will be June 15 with refreshments after. To take part, email the columnist at chris.erskine@latimes.com.
