My mother is a great person.
Your kid got his yellow belt? Big deal. I can still whoop his ass. I got a fucking black belt when I was thirteen and still still didn’t have enough confidence to stand up to the kids that would rub my hair in the locker room.
I was thinking the other day how I’ve lost touch with many of the people I went to high school with. There are a select view I still talk to, but the majority of kids that used to be fixtures in my day to day life–in the classroom or on sports teams–I’ve lost touch with. Then I realized that once you have kids (not that I plan to anytime soon), you’re suddenly reintroduced to that world of assholes, only this time the assholes aren’t fellow teenagers who haven’t realized they’re not special yet. This time, the assholes are parents who know they’re not special and want to live through their children.
I mean, there was the kid who came to our baseball game one day, found out he wasn’t the starting pitcher, and walked off righteously with his father by his side. I don’t want to be the guy who hates parents, who hates families, but I think I’m becoming one. Social media has