Political Post #2: License to Bear Children
You have to have a license to drive a vehicle, but any idiot with working parts can have a child. This has to be stopped. I think you should have to have a license to bear children.
How do you obtain this license?
1 - You take a minimum of three parenting classes and pass them.
2 - You pass an IQ test. I'm not saying you have to be a genius, or even of "normal level" intelligence to have children. I'm saying you have to show that you have enough intelligence to be able to take care of another human being and make the daily decisions that a parent has to make for their child.
3 - You show check stubs indicating you have a job. It's a sad but true fact that the world operates on money. If you don't have enough to clothe and feed a child, you just can't have one. It's that simple.
4 - You show that you have a clean and suitable household. Babies will put anything in their mouths. So if you're the kind of person that throws things on the floor or has indoor pets who use your carpet as a toilet, etc. a child crawling around doesn't seem like the best idea - now does it?
There are more, but these are the most important of the requirements. I, also, have a perfect demonstration of why these should be implemented:
Last week one of the classroom teachers at my new center got a new truck. It was early morning and she only had one kid in the class at the time, so we snatched him up and walked outside with him so she could show me the vehicle. We'll call this particular 4 year old Alan.
Alan has a baby sister - approximately 9 months old. Note: All of these children have some form of problem that allows them to be at the center. All the children receive at least one therapy and have a minimum of THREE diagnoses. Most have far more than the three required. We'll call the sister Molly.
Alan, his teacher and I are walking back into the building when another therapist approached us carrying Molly. Alan points to her and says: "Hey! There's shit rocket!"
His teacher stops dead in her tracks, as do I. "Alan, what did you say?" We're certain we must have misheard him. "There's shit rocket." His teacher still has a look of disbelief on her face so he repeats, "That's shit rocket." Shaken from her stupor by his third repetition of the term she says, "Alan! Where did you hear that???" and he calmly answers, "That's what my mom calls her."
Today, he came in with his jeans on backwards and no shoes. It's less than comforting to think that this woman has three children.
Licenses, people. We need licenses.