A miracle, they are.

Picture three adults, sitting around a fireplace in a beautiful house.

Two of these people work to pay for that beautiful house. The other is just a warm, cozy houseguest who is sitting nearest to the fire and too lazy to get up, go outside in the cold and leave.

I'm that houseguest.

We were talking about small children, the joys of them, how they are a blessing from above in all of their pooping, barfing glory.

Kids are a miracle, I said. (I also did not help clean up the vomit from one of those miracles that had covered the floor about an hour earlier.)

Then we started talking about being outnumbered by children.

Me, single and childless, with a beer sitting by a fire: "I never understood why people put their kids on leashes. Then my brother had kids. Now I know why people put their kids on leashes."

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I ran into another friend about a week ago, and something she said hit pretty close to home.

After getting out of a bad relationship, she said, she spends every day thankful to be single.

I understand, friend.

That hit me right in the feels.