Why would anyone have a baby in S.F.?

Many moons ago, I made a list of pros and cons for having a kid in San Francisco in 2020. Here’s how that list looked: All children love trains and buses, and San Francisco’s trains and buses are memorable.

On the one hand, “memorable” certainly describes some of the Muni experiences you dread exposing your kids to — sardinecan rush hour conditions, altercations over seats and handheld musical devices, and passengers in the midst of episodes of psychosis.

On the other hand, kids who grow up here get to have forever memories of the F streetcars’ multicolored paint schemes, the democratic glory of taking the 19 bus line all the way from Galvez Avenue in India Basin to Beach Street on Fisherman’s Wharf, and the alwayshappy moment when the NJudah glides out of the Sunset Tunnel into Cole Valley.

There are also few moments more heartwarming than bonding with a stranger on Muni — even if it’s just to share an eye roll over another passenger’s foolishness. Point: In favor. There are basically no other kids here.

There have been umpteen stories about how San Francisco has the lowest percentage of children among the 50 biggest cities in the U.S.

The reasons why are obvious — the cost of living is so laughable here that a day care slot will set you back, on an annual basis, the GDP of a small country. And that’s if you can get into day care as a normal person, since you’re competing with startup founders who can offer the care provider equity as a Christmas gift.

But both competition and affordability for basic goods in San Francisco is already a matter of (grim!) hilarity and forthcoming political revolution.

What about the psychic toll of being the only kid on the block? Of never having a group of neighborhood kids with whom to play games and wander the streets in the summertime? Of always being stared at in restaurants by the childless hordes, all of whom seem to be between the ages of 22 and 40 because no one else can afford to live here anymore? Point: Against. They get to be on the culinary cutting edge.

It’s so depressing when children (or, God forbid, adults) won’t eat anything more challenging than buttered pasta.

I have no illusions that any picky eater will listen to their parents about eating vegetables. Luckily, every kid is susceptible to peer pressure, and if they want to make friends in our neighborhood, they’ll have to eat everything from ojo tacos to kimchi jjigae. It’s a little harder to whine that you can’t stomach anything but pizza when your social status is at stake.

Bonus: When the kid’s a teenager and freaking out about their body, they’ll be less likely to buy into some weird diet. No selfrespecting teenager wants to get into keto or fasting when every middleaged San Franciscan has (loudly, proudly) adopted disordered eating habits in a sad attempt to cling to their youth. Point: In favor. Kids grow up seeing constant distress on the streets.

Lots of parents tell me they find it a challenge to explain San Francisco’s obvious problems — the tent encampments, the drug use, the presence of so much poverty in the midst of such plenty — to their kids.

They worry about their kids’ “innocence,” they say.

I worry about plenty of things when it comes to the next generation, but the loss of innocence isn’t one of them.

Alongside the old battles of racism, sexism and the return to a feudal economy, kids born in 2020 will have to fight horrible new struggles against climate change and technologyenhanced surveillance.

San Francisco’s public anguish simply makes plain what’s beneath the surface of society. Failing to be honest about it, in an ageappropriate manner, strikes me as a dereliction of one’s parenting duty.

(I’d draw the line at letting them spoil Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny for their classmates, though.) Point: Neutral. Children here grow up in a “bubble.”

Because San Francisco is a heavily Democratic city that isn’t actively hostile toward anyone’s ethnicity or sexuality, it’s been called a “bubble” for at least as long as I’ve been alive.

I’ve always disagreed with the idea that San Francisco is a radical departure from the rest of the country — it’s more of a canary in a coal mine for urban life in the U.S. But it’s true that there are aspects of life here that create a strong contrast to the, uh, national climate.

Like walkable streets and nice parks. Like good access to the arts. Like that civic understanding that it’s important to be open and respectful toward different types of people, even if that openness is fraught with all kinds of biases.

Point: In favor.

Final tally: Three points in favor, one against, one draw. Readers, I’ll see you when I return from maternity leave.

San public Francisco’s anguish simply makes plain what’s beneath the surface of society.