The kid keeps staring at me like she's one of them creepy little ghosts in The Shining, and I'm suddenly reminded of why I was thinking about getting a vasectomy. Me and kids have never mixed. Hell, I didn't even like myself when I was a kid. They all seem to come in one of two varieties—the kind that're always shrieking like medieval peasants whose village is being raided by dragons, and they somehow manage to always be sticky, or they're the kind that stare at you like a tiny Victorian ghost in a well.
