Impotent, vacuous man-children and their putrid, sterilized social-brides will never know the joys of being a parent. Why, just today, as we prepared for a snowy hike—the small, dangerously under-skilled version of myself was quickly zipping up his winter coat—then suddenly began squealing in agony and running around quite literally like a chicken with its head cut off.
I scolded my spawn’s lack of manliness and bade it return to me. Apparently, today the boy learned the lesson of a lifetime: if you zip up a winter coat carelessly enough—you can catch your throat skin in the zipper.
The grown girl-version of mini-me immediately tried the obvious: pull gently on the zipper that clung to the kid’s throat, while hoping that physics is not a thing and that the zipper won’t require at least the same force to tear down through the throat that it needed to first cut up into the throat. Well apparently physics is a thing, because the only result that came from pulling “gently” on a zipper-caught toddler-throat…was a screaming toddler.
The moral of the story is that countless weak, stupid, immature, vapid, childless losers waste away their lives convincing themselves that no tough choice is ever necessary: every challenge in life has at least one petty, passive-aggressive solution that let’s the childless loser weasel out of the agony of the “less-terrible of the two options” kinds of choices that daily puts hair on parents’ spiritual chests.
Not long after the chaos, stirred-but-not-shaken-kid-Russ was on a snowy trail, singing his favorite songs from Blippi (the Peewee Herman of his generation)—but not until after I had to decide between two courses of action:
(1) sit still and wish a toddler had not zipped his throat into his winter coat; or
(2) take the zipper, and slowly, steadily recut the boy’s already-cut throat, as he summons every bit of his dad-trusting in order to sit still as I strategically tore him.
To a real man or woman (i.e. a parent), the only thing worse than hurting your kid badly when they need it—is not being able to prevent worse harm to them. This is just one of countless lessons that failed, failing, childless adult-children will never learn: the agony of the second-worst option.