I am a hypocrite.
I must have been 5 or 6 years old when, fed up with my intolerable condition of having to do chores instead of being coddled and doted-upon nonstop, I told Mom, “I’m running away from home.”
Parents all over the world dream that their little tyke will grow up to be famous. They go to great ends to see that their tiny tot fulfills that dream – expensive higher educations, grueling music lessons, rigorous athletic training.
You can try to silence objectionable speech with bullets, as the Charlie Hebdo terrorists did recently, but there are quieter ways at work every day.