After all, I don't give a damn if your kid is on board your vehicle, it will certainly not impact my decision on whether to ram you in the rear end of your car just because your child is on board; certainly, I would not wish to ram you in the rear end of your car regardless. After all, I would not want to damage my car, and especially not the rental I have, and that should be enough of a reason.

So after I pass the "Baby on Board", I get behind an oversized SUV with a woman riding her brakes, and in her back window is a stick-figure image of her family. If you haven't seen these, essentially the idea is that a woman who lives vicariously through her children, and for some reason has no life of her own outside of her family, places one sticker each for the members of the family that is transported in this vehicle.

The beauty of this system is that, when you vehicle is parked in the driveway of your oversized four thousand (4000) square foot home, the psychotic nut about to rub your house and kill all of you conveniently knows exactly how many adults, children, dogs, and cats to kill so that the nut can get away with whatever valuables are being kept in the Maxwell House can in the back of their pantry where they think it is safe.

Yes, I get it. You can reproduce. Sometimes like rabbits. Ocassionlly like Jon and Kate. You got your freak on, your husband (at the time boyfriend) didn't wrap it up, and you popped a few offspring out. This does not mean that the person behind you trying to figure out if you're turning because you've had your blinker on for 3 miles cares in the slighest.

If you're going to reproduce, it is certainly your decision. Just don't burden society annoucning your baby is on board, or that you are more fertile than a Catholic whore.