Bob Hunter ® strictly personal * pope tN, AFTER MANY seasons of watching people use language on each other, | have adopted the only sensible fatherly communications policy with I'm making absolutely no ef- fort to teach her to speak English. Or French, Or anything else. She already talks wonderfully and with great animation, although not in any know extant language. Her name is Emily. She's two years old, and I know | shouldn't exploit my baby like this by writ- ing about her, but f can’t help it. {'ve never really stuck with any hobbies in adult life because i've had kids for slightly more than half my existence, and after you've had kids, you don't really need a hobby. Yes, you could say my hobby is having kids. I’ve got four. 1 heep swearing to quit. Four kids isn’t a lot. My mother had eight brothers and sisters and HER mother had 15, or something like that. The sur- vival rate wasn’t the same as it is today, of course. Here in the industrialized West, we live in the era of small families. A guy like me, with four kids, has something like two and a half more kids than the average modern Canadian male. I ran into a phrase recently my youngest child. that spoke to the small-family condition. It was the “precious-baby syndrome."* That is, if you have 20 kids you treat them all equally, and therefore each of them gets one- twentieth of your motherly or fa- therly affection, Have just two and they each get half. From the kid's point of view, what's the percentige? Well, it changes from five to 50. Which is: wow! Kids are fairly famous for be- ing the original Me Generation and sibling rivalry is a fact of life for the most part. The fewer the kids, goes one theory, the more happy and sane and un-hung up they'll be as adults, on the simple grounds that they got more than their fair share of attention. The other theory holds that they'll grow up to be lonely, totally self-absorbed sociopaths. I can’t, of course, extrapolate any serious trend-lines on the basis of my own meager experi- ence. Ivly kids seem to me to be uniqueiy sane and handsome and beautiful and intelligent, but, like, I'm the progenitor, right? 9 areyer yey BUVye aN VL. So what has this to do with be- ine 40 irresponsible as to not be pushing my baby Emily to speak Queen's English, or at feast the Canuck version, el? On the demographic curve side. instinct seems fo be saying small is beautiful, after all, as the Hippies knew all lone. On the macroeconomic side, given inflation, each kid is a big- ger financial burden than the Jast. by a nearly quantum factor. The baby — if vou keep the fiscal projectians ino mind -- is the most expensive item in’ the house. And cach of them is far more costly to enjoy than ali the mortgages put together, unless you are into something really lucrative. Since no one seems to be able to tell me precisely what will be happening with the world's economy the day after tamorrow, let alone in @ year from now or — itis to laugh! — 3G years from now, who can really tell me what the cost of raising Emily will be? A million dollars? Easily, {'m sure. But given enough apocalypse, she might cost me $20 trillion Canadian pesos. My cheapest kid, I know for sure from an actuarial point of view, was the first, who is now 22. I didn't always appreciate it at the time, but he was a bargain. The most dear, on the books, turns out to be the littlest dear. Anyway, why should | teach her to talk? Sooner — unfortu- nately, rather than later — she's going to talk anyway. And talk. And talk. And talk, All my other kids talk as much as me. It’s awful. When we get together, | barely get a word in edgewise, as itis. And of course my Mother out-talks even them. Do | want the baby getting her two-bits in right away? To do something different... 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