Go big or go home, right? Why do something as uncouth as physically accosting the child when you can engage in the sort of mental attack that’ll keep food on some future therapist’s table for years to come? I like to think that the sign is just right outside the kid’s window, too. Glowing through the night. An ever-present illumination of precisely how his creators feel about him.

It’s probably best that I’m not put in charge of children.