TL;DR: if ya ain't willing to swap the mustard for ketchup when ketchup serves better than mustard at that moment, ya may turn into this generations version of the "Adorable but unchangeably hella racist grandparent".

Eh. I call it studying. If someone can come by and show evidence a normal, average children, without trauma present or a bangin IQ, ponders this kinda stuff at that age, obviously I don't study enough.

If not, answering shit as thorough as I can, even if parts of it are unneeded, keeps me fresh and finding new questions to look for answers too. So I have a habit of writing walls. And I like metaphors and see how far far I can take em sometimes. Mostly write it for myself, don't usually expect it to be read.

I'm of the opinion if someone thinks they know how to raise a fully healthy kid, they're lying to themselves. Most folks can get their kid to 18 without any overly major wrecks. But still, most folks are gonna put a few dinks in the kid, most probably mentally. You'd have to be perfect to get to 18 with zero dinks. Which just isn't humanly possible. For a lot, the dinks are barely noticeable or an easy fix. Some crash their kids into a tree going 100mph, mentally though. I could be wrong, but I figure every parent ever has fucked up at least a few times when it comes to their kids. Its a matter of degree, not if. I'm not saying there are no good parents, there are some great ones out there. Just no perfect ones.

Bringing me to my point that humans come in more flavors than jelly bean flavors now. Like 7 billion different in stock flavors, and counting. With the traditionalism, rigidity, and loss/decline of plasticity that tends to come with each year into adulthood and the responsibility of another persons life, I tend to notice folks will carry mustard with em cause, damnit, mustard will work with any food. It works with everything I eat. But mustard is a terrible idea with some shit, god awful, and if ya don't have any ketchup, sour cream, olive oil, butter and/or maybe mayo on hand, or are unwilling to swap ya mustard for ketchup, shits gonna get sour quick most likely. But uninterestingly and fairly predictable enough, and not always, but they'll usually, or atleast often enough, fall into the thought trap of 'worked for me, should for you' and 'i did everything i could', so you fucked up, not them. "You just had to fight the mustard and not let it work". Even if you're willing to change to ketchup, generally gonna be a oopsie that let's ya know psst "I don't think mustard works with this dish." Gotta fuck up to know ya fucked up and may need to alter plans. When the possible flavors are endless, you can't know anything, even if ya got 100 kids. You'll still goof somehow. If ya ain't had the Clockcap flavor yet, only one sold so far as far as I'm aware, no twin, you won't know what goes well with it without some experimenting and getting to know your dish, and forcing mustard ain't gonna magically start working if ya force it enough times.

Anecdote time: my dad was a drunk. Bad one. Abusive one. My brother has the personality for that kinda shit though. He'd be him and next thing you know they're cool. Although he rarely got any shit to begin with. Shit resolved, he's not a drunk ahole with him anymore ( no brawls. He just has a way with words and shit with that kinda shit). I am a quiet, withdrawn person. By that I mean right out of the womb. Im told I rarely cried after the first 'I almost drowned in there' cry. Like shit my diaper and wouldn't make a peep about it. Was I a hungry baby Clockcap? Who knows, cause I wasn't gonna tell ya it appears. Baby me when he started crawling? Told I'd go off by myself and chill. I was literally born not a fan of bein around people and first think i did, im told by my mom, was use my upgraded method of motion to crawl away from everyone lol. Throw father drunk antics on top of how I was, literally from birth, and it wasn't a recipe for positive growth in little clockcap. He didn't change one bit during the 18 years of my life i was alive to witness that miracle of bad chemical mixing. Sobered at 18, which is good. I've honestly no idea how our house still had walls, as much as he had to have banged his head against it doing the same shit over and over and over and bout all that happened was i mentally spiralled down the toilet.

So I guess what I'm saying, besides I write walls, and I enjoy metaphors is it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to have psych/Phil classes throughout school. Seems a lot of people, if not everyone, is stuck in some cycle of some kind that they are blind to, or trapped in and can't figure out where the exit is, until they pull their own personal version of Sherman's march through GA and see the fire and can go "huh, so that's why/what's going on". Sometimes if ya try something new, a softer touch or harder touch depending on what may be needed, rather than an iron fist always, ya may be surprised how things go. So ya, would probably have a mostly positive impact if folks were taught how to take care of, look out for, and do maintain/part swapping(thought traps, dissonance and the like to a 'healthier' thought process)on the one engine ya can't get rid, is a bitch and a half to fix if it breaks down on ya, and can fuck a lot of stuff up and do quite a ton of damage when left unchecked.