I'm right because I'm bigger than you

I don’t like children.

As far as I’m concerned, female sexual autonomy is all well, fine and good but the real icing on the cake is the fact that the end result is fewer children in the world.

I didn’t like children when I was a child. When it came to big groups of children, having apparently never possessed the ability to stand my ground, I was inevitable trampled by the hordes of noisy, demanding and bossy peers.

So, I was walking to work this morning. This is a bit of a walk, maybe half an hour. I do it every weekday morning.

Every morning, there is Café Colluci’s with the pavement wet, the fragrance of spices and rot vying for attention in a miasma that is both appealing and stomach turning.

There is the man, with a full ginger beard, dressed for a Russian winter. He strides purposefully in a direction opposite to mine.

The flowers on the corner of Ashby, big buckets on the rickety shelves propped up with bricks.

There is the sushi place an acute roof. The 7-eleven and Buffalo Brewing means I’m almost to Dwight, and although I’m only just starting the walk I did every day my senior year it feels like I’m as good as arrived on campus.

And then of course, there’s the elementary school, about half way there. The students usually straggling in as I pass it.

I do it every weekday morning and at this point, it takes minimal input from my brain to direct my body. This frees up my brain for other things, like listening to music or thinking or day dreaming. This morning I was doing all three and well-zoned out when I hear:

Boo!

And a girl, perhaps in her late elementary school years, goes whizzing by alone, mere inches from my left side.

I’m usually easily startled and the degree to which I was lost in my own world made for a jump which must have been quite amusing for her. In fact, I’m certain it was quite amusing for her since she slowed down to look back over her shoulder and smirk, very pleased with herself.

My first reaction was to flip her off. My second reaction was to yell a great big “fuck you” at her. But I decided it was probably for the better that I don’t start out my day hollering obscenities at children. So I resigned myself to hoping that she would run into the wall from the wobble in her bike due to her craning around to see what my reaction was. To my great dismay, she didn’t.

My indignation knows no bounds.

I’m a grown up now damn it! Or so the tedious papers and documents littering my desk would indicate. Children aren’t allowed to make me feel bad anymore with their vicious Lord of the Flies ways. That’s the trade off for having to work and pay rent.

I hate children. Now I’m going to go say "fuck" as often as I can, eat as much candy as I want, and go to bed as late as I’d like.