Bringing peanuts around my child feels like you don’t understand.
Because you don’t.
It makes me crazy and puts a lump in my throat.
The lump is there because I know I have to confront you about it.
I have to confront you about it – and you will look at me like I am crazy when I do.
Maybe I am crazy.
But I have to say something because, like I said, you don’t understand.
And the pernicious part is: Your lack of understanding can kill.
Bringing peanuts around my child feels like you would feel if I sat a loaded gun in front of your child.
…And your child was the only one capable of pulling the trigger.
…And they could only hurt themselves with it.
My child’s life can depend on it.