Everybody Ought to Have a Kid

By "kid," however, I do not mean a goat. Nor am I referring to a child, one of those cuddly miracles from a sentimental God who routinely reduce the rational adults around them to states of mewling immaturity until they enter their terrible twos or, worse, their treacherous teens.

No, I'm talking about those young people who have survived into their own callow adulthoods and have begun packing on the density of maturity.

"Kids," as I mean to use the term, are not hippies or punks. They've outgrown those impulses and are beginning to consider things like salaries and commitments. They're like you or me before life burned us out and jaded us. They're somewhat serious-minded and sincere without yet comprehending the need for an IRA, much less what one is. They're still fresh.

And when they're respectful and considerate and don't keep you awake too late, they help to keep you young. Or, at least, on your toes. So kids have their place. My advice is, if you've still got any stamina left, you should get yourself a few.

You need to treat them right, however. Don't impose on them or be too mean, and they'll come when you call. They'll pick up the Cheetos you dropped on the floor. They'll even pour you glasses of wine from the bottle they pulled off your rack in the kitchen. They'll make you laugh and forget why you were pitying yourself a few hours ago. And they'll make you feel wise and important when you spout off about the good old days like you know what you're talking about.

With any luck they might even visit you in the hospital when everybody else you know has already died ahead of you. Hell, they might even drive you home after your bypass. You never know.

The kids I have are pretty cool. Of course, they're already taken, so you'll have to find your own.

It's not that hard.

You don't want to appear too needy at first. That generally scares them off. You have to take your time. Sit still for a while so they won't think you're on the attack. Gradually, you can start leaving scraps of food around. They'll begin to trust you then. Not long after that, they'll start coming up to you on their own when you're resting on that bench in the park; and in no time at all, they're domesticated; and they're yours for life.

Until the day comes when it's time to put 'em down.