It's "take your child to work day" at my office, and I forgot to call in sick.
There are children everywhere.
When I was 17, I was looking to see what college I was going to go to. I wanted to go to Mason Gross School of the Arts for vocal music. I auditioned. I could tell that they were not as impressed as one would hope for.
"Have you ever considered music education?" one of them asked. I could tell that this woman felt for me. She felt like I had some sort of musical talent, but that I just wasn't ever going to be a performer for a living. Perhaps if I wanted to become a music teacher, this was the path they could help set me on at Mason Gross. I could see all that in her face, and I knew that music education was going to be the only way I was going to get into that college.
"No," I said immediately, without any hesitation.
I do not like children. Sure, sure, I like the odd individual child, but I dislike the random ones, and I especially dislike them en masse.
And now there's dozens of them, maybe hundreds, walking around my office. In the cube next to mine, I hear someone teasing a 7-year-old boy about why he doesn't have a girlfriend.
Why didn't I stay home?