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Kids Have It Easy

Come On Mark, Where is Your Sense of Humour? (Gatineau, March 2014)

It’s 11 p.m. and Mark is finally sleeping. Feng and I are enjoying a quick hug before going back to work (late-night assignments are routine for us).

“Maybe we should go to bed as soon as he sleeps,” Feng sighs. “Maybe we would have as much energy as he does.”

“Yeah,” I say lazily. “This kid has it easy. He sleeps whenever he feels like it. Hell, people beg him to go to sleep! He eats right before going to bed and gets a long hug from me!”

“I know! Don’t you wish you were him? Whenever he is hungry…”

“… food magically appears in front of him,” I complete. “And here is always a snack for him in my bag. It’s like I’m growing cereal bars and fruit puree pouches in there.”

“And if he tries something he doesn’t like, he just throws it to the floor. As simple as that.”

“Boy,” I add. “I wish I could do that when I don’t like your parents’ food!”

“He is bathed, clothed, entertained…”

“Although he has to wear the stupid clothes your parents buy him,” I object. “I mean, I personally wouldn’t walk around with a shirt that says ‘Mommy’s Little Hunk’—do your parents know what it means, by the way?”

“Meh, they probably bought the shirt because it was on sale,” Feng says. “Okay, Mark gets money from the government just for, you know, being here.”

“That’s true. He is literally paid for doing nothing but being a kid. And he gets toys all the time. And we take him to playgrounds.”

“Going up and down the escalator makes his day. And so does finding a balloon. Meanwhile, we, idiots, are trying to figure out the meaning of life.”

“Okay, the downsides of being a kid now,” Feng—who always like to see both sides of the story—asks.

“Baby food tastes like shit. It’s bland.”

“That’s why he wants our food.”

“Okay… what else… Oh, he never gets to watch late night shows on TV.”

“He can’t open doors. Can you imagine how frustrating it must be?”

“Every few months, he must get immunization shots at the clinic.”

“He has teeth growing.”

“He bumps his head all the time.”

“He licks his shoes.”


“Eh, I’m driving,” Feng protests. “I can’t stop the car and take off his shoes when he does it!”

“He gets bullied by your parents,” I venture.

“So do we.”

“Okay… he has to live with two crazy parents?”

“Yep. Poor kid… and we make fun of him, too!”

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