That’s where we are today, here, now, societally.
You know, I tend to magnify my parental shortcomings. In a certain frame of mind, it’s far easier for me to recall things I wish I’d handled differently, or just out-and-out mistakes, than it is for me to remember triumphs.
But then I see sincere guidance to adolescent human beings warning them not to place dishwasher detergent in their mouths, and I swell with self-regard. I think I must surely embody 99th-percentile parenthood excellence, my place in the Fatherhood Hall of Fame already guaranteed.
Now, certainly, our children have had misadventures of youth. There was an ill-conceived escalator encounter, for example. And there are perilous arenas whose doors we are only just now opening. I am most definitely not crowing too loudly. Ample opportunities for immaturity-driven bad news remain.
Hell, I’ve even issued dishwasher detergent advice at my house.
I’m just saying I never had to tell any kid of mine old enough to shave not to eat soap.