Sweet Child of Mine?

Here is the post I was talking about. Firstly, no child is sweet.. so I suppose you got the satire(in case you haven’t, yet). Secondly, this post is originally dated of 17 Oct’o7. Thats pretty much it! So here We go…

I hate kids. The ones between 3 and 7, with a tolerance of a couple of years more on either side. I know that they sweet and cute et al, but if you’d look with a little more masculine eyesight, you’d get what I really mean here.

I’ve had some terrible experiences with them from the time of yore, more aptly, I never had any good experience with them till date. There were a few kids whom I used to like (precisely, there has been only two of this kind) but then I realized, this is not me, I just can’t like kids in any format.. oh sorry, I meant form! There are too many reasons to mention for this antipathy, some frivolous, some equally genuine. The primer being that I am not good with them; kids do get terrified by me somehow! Especially the males (So far, so Good) but the case is a little different with females-mind you, just a little, not comfortingly much, sadly- in the long run they do understand me in the right spirit.

This post can be attributed to some of my torturous interactions with kids in AC compartment of trains running in between Delhi and Lucknow. Most recent one is of today, and couple of days before.

I was in the chair-car cabin. C-2, seat no. 44 and 45, with one of my friend (whose thoughts in this regard fairly go hand in hand with mine). Our front seat, back seat, side one and the two diagonally side ones.. all had at least one child each. Two of them bore 3 children each! Horrible! And to worsen the matters, in all, these were the only hell makers for the entire cabin.. deliberately seated within irking ranges from us.

All the weird activities of children, which their parents somehow find very adorable, completely beat me. We were watching Friends and this kid, from our behind, like an apparition, stood in between us, each hand on our mortal heads.. like bitches in prison. Then there was the other one, who desperately wanted our only pack of Parle-G and who, even after having the entire pack all by himself, wasn’t fully content and demanded some more when the train was going at some 70-80 mph (Yeah, the train was kind of “Superfast”, to put in railway-walla terminology). And the kid, right ahead of us, was a mere baby –mind you, just Technically- otherwise he wasn’t inferior to his(or her, whatever!) other contemporaries. It had a very high-pitched loudspeaker installed in it’s larynx. No candies for guessing why my head was going whirlpool just after 2 hours in train (and journey lasted for full 8 hours and 47 minutes! Yeah, I counted each second of it, I ought to; had no other choice).

Moreover, I’ve some chronic troubles with respect to most atomic kid’s stuff. Like I’m never able to differentiate between two of them; to me, all of them look annoyingly the same! And then, I can never tell with surety of their gender, unless.. you know . I do like the smell of their Johnson & Johnson’ Baby Powder. But thats all I like about them.

I’ve heard that one can coin terms, provided that they are semantically and syntactically and etymologically correct. So here is some food for thought –I’m Paedophobic. Howzzat?