My kid is a brat.

Since the time my child was about two — which is when, for me, actual parenting started to happen — I’ve said the same thing. If the universe could do you a solid and just give you an envelope when your kid was born, everything would be so much simpler.

Not just an empty envelope, but one containing a small piece of paper with a single word written on it: yes or no. As in, Yes. Your child is a psycho/sociopath. Or No. Your child is just an asshole. Without this envelope, this little piece of personality insurance, my experience has been that you spend almost every waking minute that you’re…