Fern’s nephew decided I was a jungle gym, and my ears were hand holds. He’s a cool little guy, ear-grappling notwithstanding. I like to think I get along with kids pretty well, despite some photographic evidence showing me rather terrified of holding a very young child. If I seem out of my element with little kids, it’s because, well, I am. I’m not anyone’s father. I’m not even anyone’s godfather. Sure, I’m Winston and the kitties caretaker, but that’s as close as it gets.

I’m constantly in awe of my friends who do have kids. Y’all that are reading this now, you guys are amazing. Every frickin’ last one of you. Because, Jesus, kids are crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure they’re unbelievably rewarding and expand your heart, and make you a better version of yourself, and all the other things the Father’s and Mother’s day cards say. I don’t doubt that. But I’ve shared more than one beer with a bedraggled, frustrated, sleep-dep’d parent. I don’t know how you do it, but you guys are turning out the future, and that’s pretty amazing.

I’m grateful for the time I get with nieces and nephews and friends’ kids because this time around, that’s as close as I’m going to get to being a parent. I never really had a ticking biological clock like so many of my friends have, yet I always felt I could make a good parent if my significant other did want to have kids. Circumstances as they were, we decided early on that kids weren’t in the equation for us.

And here’s where I might offend some people.

For all those people with children who have ever told someone without children that they’ll “come around” or you “felt like they did” before you decided to have kids – if you have ever said anything like this to someone, this? This is my middle finger. Seriously. Because here’s the thing: you decided to have kids and I’m sure you had great reasons. Eventually you determined that, yes, you really wanted to have kids and so, darnit, that’s exactly what you did. And good on you! See above about parents being awesome. But by the same token, having a child when both parents are fully engaged? That’s a recipe for disaster. I’ve known too many people who grew up knowing their parents didn’t really want them – whether that was through neglect or outright abuse…  yeah. So if a couple decides they don’t want kids, don’t try to tell them they do. I can say this for my own circumstances: our decision was carefully thought through, deliberated, and not made without a lot of consideration.

While you can never truly tell how your children are going to turn out, I see my friends doing everything possible to raise their kids as best they possibly can. And the idea that someday years from now another child will likely put your name up a branch of a family tree… that’s got to be humbling.

For those who decide to raise the future, I salute you.

For my part, where I’m at in life I’m trying to put my energy into my writing. No, it’s nothing like parenting – I’m not going to pretend it’s anything like that. But a long time ago I remember reading that Tori Amos calls her songs her “children” (this was before she actually had children, mind you, but even after becoming a mother she still counts her songs as children, just, you know, not people-children. I hope…). I look back at October and see 31 little instances of me in the 31 Ghosts. These blog posts – the selfies, the stories, even the links, and hopefully soon podcast(s) – all these things are my way of saying from the end of my family branch, “Hey, I was here!” For now, that’s enough.

But I’m also blessed that I can let other peoples’ children use me as a jungle gym. Perhaps one of these days I’ll go back to teaching. For now, corrupting children on a one-on-one basis works pretty well. And do you know what the best thing about being an uncle is? After you hyped them up, or taught them the secrets of Coke and Mentos, or how spraying that aerosol wax on hardwood floors makes for awesome sock skating, after all that you get to give them back to their parents! Sorry! (not sorry).