So I just don't want children

So I have a nice boyfriend, we've been together for almost eight years and yes, we have a house. So there should be a child with that. Others think so. And if you keep asking about it so unsubtly all the time, you get an honest answer. No, thank you. I'll pass this time.

Since my friends have had babies, I get it: the question. Just when you're awkwardly cooing at baby X, you get the suggestive look from grandma. “Nice, right?” And you get that tone of voice plus slightly raised eyebrow for free. What's even worse? Well, this one: “Is anything rattling yet?” As if I'm a second-hand item that needs a tune-up. That. Can't. Happen.

I find such a baby particularly cute. Hanging out with the ultra-happy moms above the playpen, cooing in a high-pitched voice. But I also put that on, don't get me wrong, for that sweet brown labrador who is sniffing my pants. Not the best reference frame, then. Is it me or is that question actually quite inappropriate?

”And I'm more focused on the turning circle of the Bugaboo than on a biological clock. Sorry not sorry”

My desire for children is absent. I do feel something for a little toddler, but that seems more like blind panic than a maternal feeling. The tower of baby formula from my best friend reminds me of the containers of garlic sauce at the local shawarma place. And I'm more focused on the turning circle of the Bugaboo than on a biological clock. Sorry not sorry.

Get all the lovely kids, give the bottle, change diapers in abundance, and live long and happily. I think it's all fantastic and solemnly promise to spoil them with way too expensive outfits. But #stopasking. #thank you.