Being around Angela and Michelle makes me realize how much I actually don’t like children. The two of them love children. Angela works at a teaching center for very young children at home in Singapore, and both girls go absolutely ga-ga at the sight of basically any child under the age of four. Even crying children qualify. At St. Steven’s Green in Dublin, Angela and Michelle could have stayed sitting on that park bench for hours just watching the little kids run around on the grass. In Prague, Michelle actually followed one little boy holding a chocolate ice cream cone in order to take his picture until his grandmother grabbed his hand and protectively pulled him away.
I, on the other hand, barely give children a passing glance. Babysitting always bored and exhausted me—representing exercises in patience and creativity that I always felt were poorly rewarded for the effort required—and those interactions only involved five hours with a set of kids. I cannot even imagine having a set of my own to look after 24/7. I would go insane!
I think my future husband (assuming I get married) will have a big influence on my decision whether or not to have kids. I have a lot of ideas and opinions about parenting, but I don’t think I actually like kids all that much. Having the ideas and enjoying putting them into practice are two completely disparate things. I have been told I would make a good parent, and perhaps I would, but would I enjoy being a parent. I suppose there is no way to know until you are one.