Begetting Hansel & Gretel

Last Friday, Alan* the manager at the new place i started work at got into this impassioned conversation with Polly, the expecting mother going on leave. Subject of course being: Kids.

So, after about 11 minutes going off on how he felt about his two-year-old son, the conversation came to a halt. 4 seconds of silence later, Alan looked over at me and asked, "Do you have kids?"
"No," i politely replied.

"Do you want kids?" Alan pursued.

"Probably not," i was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Why not?" He wouldn't relent.

I couldn't believe this guy. This 25-year-old who's about to be promoted in two weeks whose life is just peachy. He and his wife are going for a girl next round. Aww, a fairy tale.

"Maybe because i don't have someone to have kids with," i was tempted to say. "Maybe my eggs are rotting as we speak!"

I mean, you just don't go asking someone in their mid-thirties these personal questions.

Instead i diverted his attention to my two nephews. "They count," i said.

I'm glad he didn't question whether i even liked kids. I would've said, "Yes, yes, i do. They taste like chicken."


*Not his real name