That description sounds like Bengay Cucumbermint, or whatever his name is.

I think if the tree weren't female it would less bothersome. It (the story) seems to reinforce the patriarchal ideal of a woman (happily) giving every literal piece of herself for the benefit of a hapless, narcissistic male person. She *actually* kills herself — or lets him kill her, which is arguably even more…

If the moral of the story really WAS "don't be that kid", I'd expect the story to end with the tree falling down during a lightning storm and killing the kid. And then the scattered seeds sprout new tree seedlings which use the corpse for fertilizer. The End.

Eh, for me the dislike was always the refrain of "the tree was happy," (if I'm remember right.) I was of the "cripes, stick up for yourself, tree," perspective. It wasn't that it was a sad story, it was that it felt like the author wanted the tree to be a role model. Kids, don't be like that tree.

I don't know if it will stay the top comment on the Esquire site, but it's there now and gives me a tiny glimmer of hope:

Lol. I don't come into your daycare with a bottle of Bulleit and a grudge, please don't ruin my vices by dragging a baby to my watering hole.

Actually, I didn't tell you to move, you brought up the topic of where I lived and I told you. Then I indicated that lots of people decide to live in the outer boroughs because they want more space for their kids. Then I stated that lots of parents choose to live in Manhattan and figure out how to do that without…

Going to happy hour isn't a human right. Like it sucks if having a baby means you can't go out the way you used to. I get that and do have a bit of sympathy, and it's not like I'm advocating that we should pour bar-goers with babies foamy beers or anything. I also don't think all bars in the city should ban babies…

Maybe he has an issue with poorly behaved children and their permissive parents. If you know your child is has trouble adjusting to an unfamiliar, noisy, crowded place, perhaps s/he should stay at home with a nanny.

"Having a young baby means never going out, ever."

It's got to be hard for you. I'm not being sarcastic at all. I know I'm guilty of this ... I like babies at a arm's distance ... but I want them cute and quiet ... ALWAYS. I know that's not realistic. I know kids have their bad moments ... they get frustrated and can't express it. I know they get loud when…

Or you can get a sitter or stay home with your spawn and quit forcing everyone around you to have to endure your child.

I don't mind kids in bars/restaurants/etc so long as they don't bother me. But I SO AGREE, nothing is worse than parents expecting you to be totally game to play with their kid, because look how adorable they are. Umm, NO. Your kid waving at me, walking up to me, or trying to start a conversation with me is NOT…

No. No babies in bars. Ever. Any circumstances.

See, at Jets games, a beer soaked baby is an unfortunate accident. At Raiders games, it's a menu item.

In the Fall of 2008 I went to an early afternoon Jets game. We arrived at the stadium to tailgate at 9:30am, and by 10am were playing flip cup. Needless to say it got dicey after that. Fast forward about 12 hours, and I'm at a bar (not a restaurant - a bar) in the East Village with my friends and we are all pretty…

I wish you had a video of the beer being spilled on the baby, because I'm a terrible person.

When to Take Your Baby to a Bar: Never. Jesus fuck, people, don't have babies if you think you can just carry on your adult life without making any changes or sacrifices.

No. You have kids, you forfeit certain things. You want brunch? Go to a family restaurant. That's what they're there for.

This concept is so obvious to anyone who has already had the "stuff" epiphany and completely eludes anyone who hasn't.