An attractive young couple stopped me on the street the other day, as they seem to do from time to time, to ask me what it’s like when your youngest baby isn’t really a baby anymore. Well, It’s kind of an emotional topic, as you can imagine. On one hand your baby is becoming a beautiful, probably smart, independent kid, needing you less for this, and needing you differently for that. You’re basically saying a slow good bye from the moment they can walk. On the other hand – and this is the uplifting part – that fucking good for nothing designless piece of shit scrap of root rot they called a crib can finally eat worms and die. So, you know, life is kind of beautiful.