No one is obligated to care about your children. Not even you. And certainly not your coworkers.
Contrary to popular belief, it does not take a village to raise a child. You can do it on your own. And last I checked, none of us signed up to be part of any child-raising village.
So please, annoying woman from accounting, don’t assume that anyone in your workplace lunchroom wants to hear about the products of your vagina. We don’t give a damn about your kids. In fact, we despise your children. When you bring them to work we will give them dirty looks and wish ill upon them, because of you.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. The next time you find yourself in the lunchroom, coworker, try following this simple set of instructions: Open mouth. Fill with food. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.
If you experience the sudden urge to talk about your kid, just take another bite. You’re already overweight, what does it matter? In return, I promise to stop showing you videos of my kitten—which was a retaliatory measure, btw—even though she’s fucking adorable, and a bajillion times more interesting than anything that could possibly emerge from your crotch.