Julie was worried about her 37 year old son Henry. He had no formal qualifications, hadn’t finished high school and was yet to embark on his first day of work. “What are we going to do about Henry?” she asked her husband one night in bed. The question roused him from a light sleep. “Kick him out,” he replied, sternly.
“And just let him live on the street?” she asked.
“He sits at home with his eyes glued to the playbox all day while we’re out working. He’s a grown man for Christ’s sake.”
“I talked to him today; I told him you were going to kick him out if he didn’t start pulling his weight.”
“Good for you.”
“You know what he said to me?” Julie asked, without pausing for response. “‘I didn’t ask to be born. You brought me into this world and now you expect me to go out and look after myself.’”
“That’s the first bit of sense that kid’s ever made.”
“And just let him live on the street?” she asked.
“He sits at home with his eyes glued to the playbox all day while we’re out working. He’s a grown man for Christ’s sake.”
“I talked to him today; I told him you were going to kick him out if he didn’t start pulling his weight.”
“Good for you.”
“You know what he said to me?” Julie asked, without pausing for response. “‘I didn’t ask to be born. You brought me into this world and now you expect me to go out and look after myself.’”
“That’s the first bit of sense that kid’s ever made.”