My daughter is fourteen years old. She is also seeing a fourteen-year-old boy. He is a pleasant man who is extremely well-behaved. He visits us every Sunday, and he spends the whole day in my daughter’s room with her. To avoid upsetting them, I had the following thought one Sunday:
“We live in the twenty-first century. Children are growing up more quickly these days. Could it be that they are producing their own children there? I hurried to her room, opened the door, and heard them conversing as the lamp was dimmed. You know what I see when I walk into the room looking like I’ve got you? The boy is lying on the couch reading aloud while my daughter is knitting a scarf in the armchair. “Would you like some tea?.?” was all I could say.
To buy myself some winter boots, I went to the store. A father and his young son were trying on shoes right next to me.
Dad: “I take it you like these ones? Are they sufficiently comfortable?
Son: “They are amazing, indeed.”
“The price seems right, we’ll take these,” said the father as he assisted in putting on the second shoe.
Startled, son: “What? Is that all? Is this the final store we must go to? Could I just go shopping with you from now on, Daaad?
I was a courier for an internet retailer. There are a lot of clients, and the work is good, but that isn’t the point.
Every child in the kindergarten class, including my daughter, was asked what their parents did for a living. “My father gives people some bags,” my daughter cheerfully replied. People pay him because they are pleased to receive the bags.