Offspring are good for your ego

25 November 2014 - 13:49 By Shanthini Naidoo
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Our children boost our egos so sweetly - and if ever they stop adoring us, we can always have another one, writes Shanthini Naidoo

The question of why we choose to bring kids into this rough, tough world is one which parents are often asked. And one we ask ourselves, not only when feeling the swift breeze from a teenager's bedroom door slamming for the 41st time.

It seems nonsensical to procreate considering the state of our nation, climate change, mass consumption and what appears in the rest of this newspaper.

Here is a theory on part of the reason.

Offspring are good for your ego.

Of course we all deny it: "How selfish? Who would do that?"

But think about the phrase: "That's my boy!"

Pride, love, acknowledgement of how cool that boy is? Maybe.

What we actually mean is: "Look at the miniature version of myself I have created. Look at how awesome he is, therefore, how awesome I am!"

Multiplicity of our genes is a form of imitation, ergo flattery.

Not only do children resemble us, which most people find pleasing, but they actually listen to us, and mimic our unique actions and behaviours. So endearing, even when they repeat what you claim was "duck" after slamming a finger in a drawer.

Children think their parents are rock stars. The best thing in the world. They try on our high heels, spritz our perfume, sing what we sing. They don't want anyone else. There is no substitute for the amazing, wonderful "you".

Who could ask for more affirmation than being a one-and-only; for some, to more than one child? Forget meaningful adult relationships, we have our kids!

No, it is not dysfunctional or psychotic, it was simply ordained.

Nature has dictated that human babies cannot survive without parenting. Unlike, say, horses.

The human child needs an able person who must feed, bathe, hug, educate and clothe him or her, and will likely adore the person who does so.

Horses, they just get up and run off before they're out of the amniotic sac. In six weeks they hit the haystack and return to their mother only to show off their jumping skills.

Perhaps the guilt of needing that extra care keeps human children in love for a little longer. It certainly should be appreciated later in life and remembered the next time you have to ferry a parent to the pension office or bingo evening, depending on your family.

Sadly, the rock stardom wanes for a period. (Do actual rock stars get the love for a little longer?)

Barely two years in, I got a shot to the heart. The daily repeat: "Sing do-re-mi, mama, sing the mouse song," recently became: "Don't sing mama. Don't sing." Complete with tiny fingers in ears.

More crushing than Randall on Idols on a bad hair day.

And so, the mummy star gets a bietjie rusty. Time for the next one then.

Follow Shanthini Naidoo on Twitter: @ShantzN

This article originally appeared in the Sunday Times Lifestyle Magazine.

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