I've always thought of babies as chest-bursters that, instead of just killing you immediately, slowly drain your life, as well as your freedom, energy, time, and ability to feel joy, away over a period of 18 years, at which point they abandon you in your soulless, deprived state of near-death until they reappear without warning and ask for money and if it'd be cool if they could crash on the couch for a couple days, please.
So for some reason I get the feeling that I wouldn't be the world's greatest dad.