The Business Case for a Baby Does Not Stack Up
How do we justify having children when, on paper, it seems like a terrible idea?
I spent the first 40 years of my life child free. My wife and I lived the lifestyle you imagine - we went to nice restaurants, we went on holiday, we lavished way too much love and attention on our dog. We were the stereotype of the dual-income, no kids yet, child free couple. You see - the business case just didn’t stack up. Why would we give up our free time, our disposable income and our freedom?
Plus - you spend any amount of time online and you realise that children are really annoying. Spend 20 minutes on Reddit and you’ll hear endless stories of them playing up in restaurants, kicking the back of seats and ruining endless flights.
We’d obviously been lucky. We’d had lots of reasons that nights out had gone awry. People fighting in pubs, overly loud adult conversations in restaurants and one time we even saw someone attacked with a bottle in a kebab shop.
We’d managed to avoid the children though.
The more I thought about it, the less my whole stance made sense. It occurred to me that I had once been a child myself. I wasn’t that bad was I? At the time adults always told me what a delight I was, how easy I was to look after, how grown up I was for my age. Maybe I was just a dweeb, or maybe children aren’t as bad as everyone says.
My parents seem happy with their decision - they’ve never expressed any regrets. I sometimes catch them talking to other adults about how proud they are of me and my brother.
So why does the business case not work? What’s so complicated?
If you’ve read any of my other pieces it will be no surprise to you to learn that I am a father. A relatively new one with a son who is under a year old. I’ve lived the childfree years and now I am on the other side. And it turns out that actually... the spreadsheet was right.
The lack of sleep is real. I have a David Brent laughing gif on standby for whenever someone asks me “how’s the sleep going?”. I don’t think we’ve got any less tired as the time has gone on, this has just become our new normal. When I look around at other new parents - they’re all the same as well.
The freedom is gone too - no foreign holiday this year. I don’t want to have to look after a baby and be 3,000 miles away from all of our stuff. We can’t go out in the evenings any more - I’ve really learned to appreciate a lunch out and an afternoon pint (but only one).
My wallet and I have also found out that babies are the main product, but they also have accessories. From nappies to baby monitors to special beds to sleep tracking bracelets. Prams that can be reconfigured 20 different ways. There is plenty to spend your hard earned cash on.
That’s just the obvious things - you’ll need a bigger car, a house in the right catchment area. You need to feed them, every day... pretty much forever! It’s relentless.
Maybe this is all unnecessary. My parents didn’t need all this stuff. But half a day without it and I feel completely helpless.
Then there’s the things I forgot to put on the spreadsheet. One morning, after a particularly big feed, he threw up directly onto my face. Some of it even went in my mouth. Where do you capture that on the spreadsheet? I didn’t even know I needed a line for this sort of stuff.
Similarly - changing a nappy in the disabled toilets of Wetherby Services is not something I would do for anyone. I won’t regale the whole story to spare those of you with a weak constitution, but it’s hard to hold a baby, a changing bag and a full nappy while the floor of the toilets is suspiciously wet so you can’t put anything down.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but I’m actually considering whether this is even a negative. My reaction when the vomiting incident happened wasn’t to put him down in disgust, wash my face and grump around the house for the morning (like a sane person would). Instead, I said “Poor baby, are you okay?” and gave him a cuddle. It was a nice cuddle.
I’m a fairly sentimental guy, so I’d already accounted for the smiling and laughing, the first steps and school photos. I’d even given them a generous 1% uplift in terms of value, to account for the emotional aspect. But even with that - the case makes no sense.
Perhaps one thing I hadn’t accounted for is that my son is funny. He can’t talk yet, so he’s not really into one liners, but he can time a fart to really make you laugh. I’ve never met anyone else with such skill in this area. Because there is nobody else quite like him. He’s not just a child. He’s not a product, a consumer good.
I’d spent 40 years thinking about a theoretical child, and what arrived was Toby.
The spreadsheet was completely right - on paper children are a terrible idea. But in the eyes of a parent, the spreadsheet is the wrong tool.
The weightings are all wrong.
For the next one, I’m going to need a much more complex model.