I rarely find myself feeling uncomfortable.

I’m not talking about the feeling you get when you’re in a room with a bunch of people that you don’t know.  I’m not talking about trying to find something to do with your hands, when you are in a situation that is unfamiliar to you.  My uncomfortable level is a mix of nausea and shock, disgust and contempt, confusion and anger all rolled into one.

It started with a simple conversation with a parent who was holding his child.  The kid was adorable.  He was somewhere in the 2-4 age bracket and had dull red hair.  The father seemed normal enough and gave off the typical young father vibe, sleep deprived and disheveled.

Within the first few sentences the father was half-listening, as he was distracted by his child trying to grab everything in sight.  Actually, it was an endearing scene… it reminded me of one More >