“Every second is a miracle,” he said, attempting to flip through the newer Baby Einstein videos while navigating around the three-month-old strapped to his chest. “Seriously. Every second.” I nodded, pretending to give even an inkling of a shit about any syllable that managed to make its way past his prodigious teeth. “A living, breathing miracle! Every single second.” He stopped at one particular video and smiled. Or, rather, he smiled more. I’m not sure his mouth was built in a way that allowed him to do anything but. I hated him so much.

“Wow, you’re so lucky.” I said.
“You will be too, soon!” he whinnied at me, and motioned across the store to my then-pregnant wife.
“No, I mean, most people have to measure time by seconds. You get to measure it by miracles.”
“Yeah! It’s like that!” he brayed, knocking over an entire shelf of videos with his massive front teeth.
I winced. Playing the smart ass to the perpetually stupid is never as satisfying as it should be. I’d have to remember to tell my wife how funny I was. Sixty miracles later we were out the door.

My neighborhood in Brooklyn was a hornet’s nest of children and their horrible parents. I hated every single person with a kid that lived within a twenty-block radius of my childless home. To me, parents seemed nothing more than glazy-eyed automatons intent on getting the next best stroller and quitting their jobs so that they could teach their brood sign language before they could even sit upright. They re-jigger every single aspect of their lives to meet the supposed needs of this tiny mass of unresponsive flesh that they have so willfully given up their spare bedroom/awesome home office for. When these uber-parents finally take a few hours off they brag about “not taking epidurals” and how much they hate sleeping anyway. An “Epidural” by the way, is a kick-ass cocktail of Morphine and vagina-Novocaine that actually allows a woman to enjoy the birthing process. Epidurals are shunned by the overly proud and fucking stupid. I stand by this statement. If you refuse the epidural you are a retarded monkey.

Why is it that parents today are, mostly, horrible douche-bags? It’s most likely a reaction to their own upbringing; our parents’ generation failed at absolutely everything. But I hate blaming the whole phenomenon on Hitler, whiskey, Vietnam and Watergate. The world is a little more dangerous than it was when we grew up and we are acutely aware of it. We are afraid of everything in a way our parents weren’t and we are intensely protective and, I think, competitive. And what inspires competition more than the result of our own co-mingled love juices? Unfortunately, nothing.

I never wanted kids. I’m too lazy, self-centered and awesome. “Oh but that’s perfect!” an idiot once told me. “Having kids is the ultimate narcissism! Its a little version of you!” That seems less like narcissism and more like psychosis to me. While I do tend to think of myself (often) as talented and ruggedly handsome I have no desire to cultivate an army of tiny selves. I would, however, be interested in discussing an army of Zombies. While dangerous, Zombies are easy to kill. Babies are not.

I admit that, since I’ve had a child of my own, these people don’t bother me as much. I guess I’ve learned who to avoid. And these people are much more annoying when you aren’t a parent. I’ve vowed never to be as condescending to prospective parents as these parents were to me. “Your life is going to change!” is the most common mantra-hammer with which people love to smash the childless. But, when you have a child, your life doesn’t actually change all that much. Sure, I wake up earlier, so I can’t booze like I used to. I’ve also become a little more productive with my time, as it has become slightly more precious. But, essentially, I’m still the same functional alcoholic I was before my wife’s vagina exploded.

And every second is NOT a living, breathing miracle. Some seconds are boring. A lot are terrifying. Most are merely hilarious.

I apologize if this seems strident and reactionary. I hate the hip, devil-may-care parents almost as much as I hate the robot variety. J.D. Salinger once said something like, “Love your children with detachment for they are not yours. They belong to God.” Then again, J.D. Salinger is most likely a pedophile. I mean, have you read “A Perfect Day for Bananafish”? What a freak.

Rob Corddry is an actor. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and daughter.