The Ice Storm, revisited

So, you know how when you were a teenager, all of your friends had these massively fucked up parents, and of course you did too, and you just had to hunker down and protect each other, and sometimes sneak a friend in your window to spend the night because things were just too, well, fraught at her place?

Yeah. And then you're out on your own, and those screwed up upbringings are taking their toll. You've got your friend who strips and flashes everyone at every opportunity, and the other one who passes out on the floor at every social gathering, from granny's birthday to the office secret santa, and the one with the pistol in the glove box he likes to shoot into the air to celebrate New Year's, and anything else he can think of....

And then those people start having thier own children. And there you are. It's like watching a train wreck, really. You can't take your eyes off them, but what are you going to do? Clearly, there's the four-year-old who'll be pouring mom's bottles of Jaeger down the toilet in a few years, and the one who can't sleep at night because Daddy and Mommy are screaming at each other again. Even right here in the Granola household, the future pathologies are becoming clear: Bart will never, ever be the athlete Poptart expects him to be--i.e. the athelete O was, only taller. Much taller. The taller part he seems to have down, but he'd really rather be baking cookies, and I see a world of grief ahead.

So yeah, what does one say? This is somewhere it never occured to me I'd be.