So I’m sitting on a bench outside my therapist’s house, because you don’t want to go in until the previous patient has come out, because if you did there’d be that awkward moment when you tried not to make eye contact, because if you did you’d both have to acknowledge the reason you’re there, and as American men of a certain age we’re nowhere near evolved enough to do that, when a woman and her, let’s say three-year-old-daughter walked by, and the little one looked me dead in the eye and with a very serious expression said, "My red scooter is broken." Now, because she has a three-year-old’s accent and I have 66-year-old ears, I didn’t quite get it the first time, so I asked her mom and received the above translation.
I agree wholeheartedly—up with kids, down with babies