Self-Loathing Childhood

(This happened a few years ago during the summer while I am babysitting my neighbor’s daughters. They’re six and four years old respectively, and are sweet, adorable, and very inquisitive. They’re telling me about what grade they’ll each be in for the upcoming school year, and eventually ask me about it:)

Older Girl: “What about you, [My Name]? What grade will you be in?”

Me: “Actually, I’ll be going to college.”

Older Girl: *totally shocked* “Really? Do you have to drive there?”

Me: “Yep! But my mom and dad are probably going to drive, since there’s no room to park in the city. I know how to drive, though.”

Older Girl: “Wooooah! You’re like a grown-up! Are you gonna get married and have kids?”

Me: *laughing* “Oh, gosh, maybe someday, but not anytime soon. I’m not THAT old.”

(The four-year-old, who’s been listening intently this entire conversation, finally joins in with this:)

Younger Girl: *completely serious* “I want to get married, but I DON’T want any children.”

Me: “Don’t worry; you don’t have to have kids if you get married.”

Younger Girl: *genuinely relieved* “Good, I don’t like children.”

(I barely held it together. I also enjoyed the implication that children and marriage are an automatic packaged deal, no exceptions.)