Myself, I'm in the prime of robust youthfulness. Once I have children, however, I'll have a whole raft-full of new and largely unquestionable excuses to employ in my constant bid to remain within the relatively safe confines of my house. I plan to call my first-born something Dickensian, Pip or Emily maybe. I fear he won't make it through the winter. Better still, combine the two as I have done, and specialise in management consultancy for monks.
Monasteries are relatively danger free.
Now, if like my mother, you think that using your child as nothing more than a ready-made excuse to skip work is morally abhorrent, then of course, you're right. They need to be thoroughly prepped on the realities of life first. I suggest you start when they're young. When they've all spun themselves into a giddy nausea, it's important to explain to them how that innocent little nursery rhyme is about death. To see their mirth and laughter turn into hurt and tears can be quite a moving experience.