Celebrate The Joys Of Adoption By Raising My Stupid Kids
Nothing is more magical than meeting your adopted child for the first time. Whether it’s a precious newborn, or an older child in need of a fresh start, forming an adoptive family is a highly-rewarding experience. That’s why, if any part of you is thinking about it, I say take the leap. Help a child find a forever family, but with my stupid kids. Cool? Great.
Honestly, take them for a week and then tell me all about the blessings of parenthood, or whatever crap we were talking about before. Or, at the very least, take the oldest boy until he stops masturbating in the bathroom all the time. Because adoption is magical or something.
So what time can I expect you to pick them up?
Shit, I’m messing this up, aren’t I? Oh God, okay, look, once you open your heart to an adoptive child, nothing will ever be the same. It won’t matter if one of them can’t shut up about goddamned Jenna Marbles—whoever the fuck that is. Ugh. Deep breaths. You’ll love him anyway, in a way his real father never could. Trust me. That’s the power of adoption. Or fostering. Open to that, too. Or we could do this off the books. What I’m saying is there’s lots of options here.
The key is that, by adopting my dumb kids, you’ll be providing them with a home full of love and forgiveness. You’ll need a lot of that. Hoo boy. They’re not, to quote the philosopher Smash Mouth, the sharpest tools in the shed. And the oldest probably has some lead poisoning problems from his younger years. At least I hope he does, because if that’s just his normal personality, then good lord. He has a poster of Jordan Peterson in his room. I don’t even know what that’s about. Shit. Just take them.
I’m not exactly sure how much kids are going for these days. I know a friend of a friend who got a kid from China, and she’s loaded, but I guess just make me an offer. Low ball me. I don’t care. This a package deal. Buy one, get a few more for free (there’s five in total). I can have them at your house by end of day. You’ll be reveling in the majesty of these miraculous kids by sundown. And that’s the point here. Uh, reveling.
Look, anyone can have a kid, but to pick one, to search the whole world and decide this one dumb, smart-mouthed piece of shit, along with his two brothers and two sisters, are who you want as a family, well, that’s a miracle. For one of us, at least. Anyway, I’ll call you when we’re out front.