“No.” She looked over her glasses and down her nose at me. “Children are a pain in the ass. Look at your poor mother. No offense.” “I’m not a pain in her ass,” I protested. “Oh, sweetie, I love you, but of course you are. That’s the whole point of children—they keep you grounded, but another way to say that is they weigh you down. Grandchildren are probably better, but it’s not like you can start with them so you have to lie.” “Lie?” “To your kids. If you let them know how much they wreck your life, your kids won’t make you any grandchildren.” She stopped pulling at her fingers and pointed one
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