2004-04-23 - 4:42 p.m.
I�m scared of children, specifically of having them myself.
Childhood to me means playing outside, listening to your parents fight, not getting along with your mother, and spending thousands of dollars on therapy attempting to undue the damage done between the ages of 8 and 18.
But yesterday I met a little boy who made me think twice about it. Because it was bring your child to work day, munchkins roamed the halls of an otherwise stolid medical publishing company. My boss brought her two kids, went into her office, and closed the door, leaving us to entertain them so they wouldn�t notice that their mother didn�t really want them there. This little boy is walking from office to office, searching for kernels of attention. He comes into my cube, and I freeze. I feel nervous, like if I say the wrong thing he�ll be scarred for life and his mother will kick my ass. I had him a bunch of my boyfriends� drawings, and he flips through them, throwing compliments out here and there. When he finishes he looks at me, and all I can see are big blue eyes, and cute little freckles. His freckles look like someone drew them on his face, they�re so perfect. I�m at a loss for what to say.
�Do you like AC/DC?� he asks.
�Dirty deeds,� I blurt out.
��done dirt cheap,� he finishes.
I stare at him in awe. What kind of eight-year-old kid, whose mother didn�t realize who Bob Dylan was until we sang �Like a rolling stone� to her, would know the words to an AC/DC song?
�How about this one: I�m TNT,� he starts off.
�I�m dyno-mite,� I finish.
He nods his head in approval. �Yeah, I like AC/DC a lot. Okay, here�s a question. Who was the first person to play an electric guitar version of the Star Spangled Banner?�
�Jimi Hendrix,� I say, and he slaps me five.
�Who�s the lead singer of KISS?�
�Gene Simmons,� I say, and he gives me a big smile.
�Good job! My sister thought it was Richard Simmons,� he says, rolling his eyes.
�Who sings, �I wanna rock and roll all night, and party every day?��
�Um, KISS?� I answer, and he nods his head solemnly. I get the feeling he plays rock and roll trivia with his mom and sister and they never get any answers right.
�You sure listen to a lot of music that�s before your time,� I tell him.
�I know. I love old fashioned music. You like Guns and Roses? Welcome to the jungle, it gets worse here everyday,� he says, doing a little dance.
�You learn to live like an animal, in the jungle where we play,� I sing, and spin around in my chair.
I love this kid. He calls classic rock �old fashioned music� and he quotes AC/DC and KISS. Where can I order one of these? How do I get this model, complete with freckles and luminous eyes?
He starts telling me about last night�s episode of South Park, and just when he�s asking why there were people in the bed with Michael Jackson, his mother comes to collect him. Thank God, because I had no idea how to respond. It was getting scary again, figuring out how to answer the question without giving him too much information.
But for a few moments, I could see how having children would be nice. The wonder you might feel, watching them navigate their little worlds. Who knows what the future will bring, but at a minimum I can stop referring to them as crumb-snatchers.
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