Yet another daddy doofus flunks Parenthood 101

Here's further proof, if any were needed, that the bar for parenthood has been greatly lowered since my parents' generation brought children into this world.

My wife Liz and I were eating lunch at the New England Aquarium in Boston the other day when a boy who looked to be about six or seven parked his pampered little ass on the windowsill beside his table, and then planted his feet on the table. An adult male at the same table who appeared to be the brat's father (they had an unfortunate facial resemblance) ignored this. Junior continued to use the table as a footrest for at least 15 minutes, until he and pops finally left the cafeteria.

Now, I know I'm old school about such things, but if, as a young child, I even considered sitting on a windowsill in a restaurant and sticking my feet on the table, my parents would have yanked me down so fast that my short life would have flashed before me. And there would have been no chance for a repeat performance until I turned 18 or so, because that's how much time would have passed before they allowed me into a restaurant again.

It becomes more obvious with each passing day that, although most anyone can have a baby, not everyone can be a parent. If you don't want to raise kids, don't have kids. It's not like they're an endangered species and you have a personal obligation to prevent the extinction of the human race.

So sayeth ye olde curmudgeon.