I have little interest in kids, on a personal level. If you tell me your grandchild graduated high school and got a full 4-year academic scholarship to MIT, and is already working on her first thesis on the cure for cancer, I'm all ears. If Jimbob Junior has been encountering bullies in 5th grade because he has two moms, I'll help you empathize for your daughter's family and maybe even bake some rainbow sprinkled cookies for your birthday as a gesture of solidarity.
I frankly don't give a crap how cute she is, or how nicely he shares with his siblings, or how far each of the twins threw the baseball at their Kiddie League game last week. I care about how children become adults, not what antics they get into. If you show me pictures I'll eventually just zone out. If you can tear your own eyes from your cell phone photo gallery you'll notice that mine have glossed over and my face has a distant expression on it. As if I were fantasizing about weeding my garden, which would be infinitely more interesting than Susie's new onesies.
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