I don’t subscribe to the theory (insofar as someone was lazy enough to blame an arbitrary number for bad things) that “2016” is at fault for 2016. If anything, I subscribe to the theory of Pogo, courtesy of my father.
There’s this thing about having kids — particularly daughters, I’d argue — that nobody tells you. You become soft.
I should have seen it coming, I suppose. My father-in-law as long as I’ve known him has been referred to as a “mellow old man.” In my early years of…
