This Monday, Feb. 12 marks Family Day in British Columbia, where parental units and their ungrateful spawn clog roadways, public transit, shopping centres, border crossings, the seawall, breweries and once peaceful coffee shops to bask in the radiance of their reproduction and contribution to disproportionate depletion of the world’s resources.
Family Day has only been a “thing” in B.C. since 2013 thanks to Liberal Premier Christy Clark, whose government had already established such family-friendly benchmarks as having the highest rate of child poverty in the country for nearly a decade. But we digress.
Critics claimed the new holiday was a clear attempt to pander to voters, while others appreciated a stat holiday to break up the dreary stretch between New Year’s and Easter.
Why said holiday had to celebrate families still strikes us as a little exclusionary. What about those of us who have selfishly — or selflessly, depending on how you look at it — chosen not to bear fruit from our loins or strap ourselves to a brood of little diaper fillers, dream killers and bank account drainers? Surely, we deserve a holiday in our honour as much as the next easily duped automaton.
Whether you call it Childless Day, Child-Free Day or Celebration of Personal Freedom Day, there’d be far more perks to the holiday than having a slew of families make Granville Island somehow even more unbearable.
The new holiday celebrating childlessness would include such activities as:
- watching Netflix for six hours straight with no one judging you except the reflection in your computer screen
- buying a pair of jeans that costs more than signing an uncoordinated nine-year-old up for Little League only to have them languish in the outfield
- shopping on Craigslist for cool teak furniture with dangerously sharp corners.
There’d be no scrambling to arrange “playdates.” There’d be no scheduling. No consideration of healthy consequences. And, most importantly, no tote bags jam packed with water bottles, granola bars, wet wipes and containers of sliced apples. That’s right, screw sliced apples.