The sight of him in dire straits released some kind of chemical in my brain that turned me into an emotionally wrought basket case who had to do anything in his power to make his pain go away, including, in the case of the aforementioned airplane imbroglio, prying open the airplane’s emergency exit door and hurling that hyperactive, prepubescent demon spawn out into the open air mid-flight as his passive, shoulder-shrugging mother looked on (you may’ve read about that incident in the news).
