When I reached the age of reason, I asked my boomer parents (a mental health practitioner and a corporate V.P.) if they really thought there was a book that had

When I reached the age of reason, I asked my boomer parents (a mental health practitioner and a corporate V.P.) if they really thought there was a book that had every answer they'd need as parents. "Of course," they replied. But as a former subject of the material, I can tell you they definitely didn't have all the answers. As privileged and intelligent as they were, they still fucked up. But I'm also not dead, and on the whole I'm only mildly traumatized by the unnecessary drugs and suffocating restriction on personal freedom and privacy. So I really don't care about what kind of baby advice they intoned, and I don't think parents should care either. Just keep the little bastard alive until it can move out on its own, so you can have a whole new world of worries to consider.