LIKE A LOT of parties Bonnie Powell goes to these days, there are kids. Lots of kids. And these kids, the spawn of her hyperfertile friends, come in every shape and size. There are gurgling infants. Tantruming toddlers. Preening pink princesses.
But as eyebrows raise when Powell, 34, makes a beeline for a particularly adorable little swaddled squawker in the corner, and the party guests start nudging Powell’s husband and saying, “Mmmmm hmmmmm, that’s you guys… any day now,” the record is swiftly set straight.
Powell doesn’t want kids. Ever.
The obnoxious egotists will eventually die off without bringing new obnoxious egotists into the world.
It’s funny how it is “cool” and “hip” to not have kids. The story of course is not that there is a group of people not having kids, but how they are so snide toward those who do.