It might come as a shock to moderns, but when I was young, mothers and fathers were different. Mothers fed you at their breast, changed your diapers, cooked your dinners, and kissed your booboos. Outside of an occasional steak on the barbecue, fathers did not. They slept through the feeding, handed the child off to someone else for diaper changes, and said, “You’ll live.” They would occasionally grill a steak. On the barbecue. Outside.
Fathers instilled fear, pushed limits, and had fun. When the question was an ordinary one, you would appeal to Mother. When the situation was extraordinary, you would ask Father. It was not Mother who took me on my first motorcycle ride, nor was it Mother who almost got me killed on my first motorcycle ride. It was not Mother who rented the big motorboat on our vacation, but it was Mother who remembered to bring along food.
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Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,
Von
Parthenogenic: Podcast Version