Why Do People Have Kids?

As Research Editor for the commune, you can bet your collection of used nose plugs that I get my share of stupid questions. "Why is Skyy vodka clear when the sky is blue?" "Who is my biological father?" "What does it mean if my pregnancy test comes out tie-dyed?" "Did you eat all the Oreos again, asshole?" It's enough to make you quit, and I have several times. Unfortunately, the book I'm writing on underground pope boxing in the 14th century has grown so large it's impractical to try and remove it from my office, so here I remain.

However, every once in a while someone asks a question worth answering, besides "Does anyone want pizza?" This time it was the commune's ambassador to our hostile downstairs neighbors at "Crochet!" magazine, Boris Utzov. The other day I was flushing Boris out from under my desk, where he'd become lodged while looking for treasure. After thanking me in his uniquely baffling dialect, Boris asked the question that's been haunting me these past few weeks: Why do people have children? Actually, in retrospect now I have a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to ask me how people have children, but his analogy about a duck in a noose was hard to follow at the time.

Regardless, the question remains. The "why" question, that is. For an answer to the "how" question I refer you to the excellent work of Ms. Tanya Titanic, who has far more experience than I and who is more well-loved by the camera, I assure you.

As for the why, it is important to begin with the understanding that in ancient times, children were seen merely as a cheap source of slave labor that could be eaten in a pinch. Much like in the modern-day Orient. Children, with their miniature proportions and nimble fingers, were useful for defusing bombs and luring fierce animals away from the valuable members of the tribe. They were also fun to bet on in numerous ways. In jungle cultures, children could be used to retrieve fruits from trees that contained deadly snakes and spiders which would scare off tribe members who knew what snakes and spiders were. In some cultures, children were sent outside to check on scary noises in the middle of the night, protecting less stupid elders from boogeymen and other forms of certain doom.

As civilization advanced, children were used primarily as a food source for the upper classes. Needless to say, the term "kids meal" once held a far different connotation than it does today.

With the birth of modern science, it was discovered that children were high in cholesterol and snot, and subsequently the practice of child-eating fell by the wayside. Eventually it was replaced by the unfortunate practice of child-rearing, which has persisted in one form or another to this day.

Children who were once useful for pearl diving and as stock for soups became an eye-nose-and-throat-sore, as whining of children replaced dining on children and everyone was noticeably crabbier for it. Countless lives were ruined and going to the beach on the weekend became a major pain in the ass. Soon children were even allowed on airplanes, no longer relegated to the ball bin in the belly of the plane. Before long, normally reasonable Arabs were crashing planes into buildings left and right in protest of infants in coach who had been crying in shifts for 14 hours straight.

Saying what happened, however, is far easier than explaining why it did. The tyranny of hormones is an acceptable excuse as to why a pregnant mother might refuse to expel the growing menace from her womb for nine months of overstayed welcome, but what happened to the voice of reason once the tot was shat out into the world? Is it mere sentimentalism or misplaced loyalty that keeps otherwise sane adults from cutting bait and showing this presumptuous little moppet the door?

The best explanation I can offer is that it can all be blamed on Sesame Street, the long-running PBS pro-child propaganda hour. The show has, irresponsibly if not criminally, propagated the falsehood that children are delightful creatures of mirth who brighten the world around them. It is simply too late to discover otherwise when you have one of your own and it loudly wants every cookie in the store, right now. So curse Sesame Street then, if you choose, though a little field research beforehand could have saved you some serious trouble in the long run. Eighteen years worth, by my estimate.

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