i think he's got my ears

Today I felt what real grown ups must feel when they send their kids off to kindergarten. Hopeful, heartbroken, helpless, proud. Packing off Thornberry was a bittersweet pleasure - I know he needs friends his own age (and species) but I wish I could keep him forever. How can I send his tiny body out to someday (hopefully) live alone in the ocean?

Thank god I will never be a real grown up. I don't think I could handle the responsibility of raising another little human. How could I teach him all there is to know about being a good person when I'm still figuring that out myself? I am someone who enjoys children for their willingness to parrot phrases in exchange for applause and candy. (My youngest niece's newest accomplishment - "Shiver me timbers...") I take delight in all things fecal and still giggle at the words "booby" and "butt." And don't even get me started about "penis" or "vagina." For these reasons, I am a cherished Anti but not, perhaps, the best babysitter.

I've asked my older nieces if they're bummed they don't have cousins from my loins. Thinking I was depriving them of some familial bonding or future organ donor, I was surprised and relieved to learn that my nieces recognize if I had children of my own I wouldn't have as much time to spend being an Anti. If it takes a village to raise a child, let me live in the next hut over - the one where candy is breakfast and profanity is an artform.