Lately (and perhaps it’s because I’ve turned 22 but), there’s a running theme in the questions I’ve received.
Rebekah, do you want kids?
I do—eventually—want kids. Little Tommy, Chuckie, Phil, and Lil… But the weird thing is: I’ve been working on this blog post. And it’s as if they knew. They sensed it. They looked into my brown eyes and saw horror, disgust, and revulsion toward those squishy little bundles of joy (referring to the child,*ahem*, not its diaper).
Anyways. Here’s 10 reasons why I won’t hold a baby.
It’s been a while since I’ve done a stream of consciousness blog post (a.k.a. a blog post I spend absolutely no time preparing for because I’m lazy *cutesy thumbs up*). So, today is the day.
Incidentally, today is also my 22nd birthday.
Bring on the sprinkles!
Sadly, this post was inspired by real life events.
My friends (*cough* friend… just one) have had the unfortunate circumstance of being victim of my… not-so-subtle comments.
And all this happened before the clock struck 11am.