My Parents Tried To Kill Me

As most of you know, I have a daughter named Emma. Now that she has allegedly reached the age of reason, I like to tell her little stories about my life that have a moral to them. Parables, if you will. That way she can comb the story for meaning, apply it to her life and, perhaps, become a better person for it.

Yesterday, I decided to tell her the story about how I learned to swim. I sat Emma down, put on my serious face and said, “When I was seven-years-old my stepfather thought it was time...