The sad Child asked his Father, ‘Why did you make me, Daddy? Especially since you knew the odds against me being happy!’
And the Father replied, ‘Well, son, I didn’t really make you. Every atom of your being existed long before my efforts. Some in my testicles, some in your mother’s ovaries, some in the food she ate and fed your fetus, some in the food which became her milk, some in the hay which the cows used to fertilize the cereal you’re eating right now…
‘All I did was put them together in the form of you…
‘Had I not done so, the water you drank may have well become blossom-crushing rain; the apples you ate may have suffered long, slow-rotting deaths, or may have been fed to a sad horse trapped in a circus…
‘Remember the time you made a snowman, and spared the snow from trampling, dirtying, indifferent feet? That’s all I did when I made you (bringing together eternally painful molecules in one specific form as opposed to another)…
‘Let’s see what happens. Perhaps you’ll beat the odds and be happy after all!’
And the Child said, ‘I’ll try me best, Daddy!’
And the Father replied, ‘And I’ll try my best to help you!’
And the Child said, ‘I love you, Daddy!’
And the Father replied, ‘I love you too, sweetie. More than anything in the world!’