My wife is so generous. Once in awhile, out of this great generosity, she'll tell me, "I offered to babysit my friend's kid on saturday night!" Not many words make feel so angry and guilty for feeling angry like those ones. I can't help but think, "Suffer yes the little children."
I like kids, but only when I don't have to change their diapers and deal with their crying and eating and their dumb baby stuff. Babysitting primarily consists of getting the kid calm enough to binge my latest Netflix show (Gilmore Girls. Jk). I like playing with kids in small bursts and then shrinking back into adulthood.
It's different with my own kid. His crying is not as annoying as other kids. His diapers don't quite smell as bad. If someone else's kid kept me up every hour of the night, I would leave that kid forever. With baby Obadiah, I don't have that temptation. I remember leaving him the first time for an hour--I missed him within 5 minutes. It's different with my own kid. Lame things are exciting. Frustrating things are a pleasure--well, maybe not a pleasure, but less frustrating.