* A Disclaimer – none of this applies to our friends who are, without exception, rare and considerate baby-wranglers.
They are always late.
They just WILL talk about poo, wee, vomit, “funny” utterances and allergies.
At dinner they ask peculiar questions like, “Do you have any rusks? Or soft biscuits? Can you fill this bottle to here with A7 full-cream elf milk and microwave it for 32.2 seconds on medium-low-high?”
They like to aim high-velocity prams at your shins.
Some of them feed the kids for free at the supermarket.
They say, “Tinky-Winky Rude Tots is not just for children. It’s a film for adults too!”
They finish their little dribbler’s half-chewed food.
They must leave work at 3.59-and-no-seconds-pm to pick up the ankle-biter from childcare (or RIGHT THIS SECOND if the biter has skinned a knee) – so you childless mo-fos can just do all the rest of the work.
They need “me time” because they are always doing things for “other people”. What other people? Strangers in distress? Orphaned lepers? No, the little carbon copies of themselves whom they chose to make.
In response to the question, “how old are your children?”, they give answers like this – “Taylerr will be ten in November, Brandonn turned eight last week and Alekx is three and a half”. So, that’ll be 9, 8 and 3 then?
AND LAST BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST…..
They are deaf to the little one’s 700 shrieked versions of the words, “Old McDonald Had a Farm”. No-one else on the plane is.