You really have to watch out for any feelings of wistful nostalgia that may creep into your contemplative moments. That’s a sure sign of getting old. It’s such a cliche to look back and believe it was better when we still had [blank], or before there was [blank]. And yet. And yet… I wonder if it isn’t worse to suffer under a strong conviction that positive transformation may be effected in the future, and (worse still) that one may be the agent of such change. That is the hallmark of youth; that is its central folly, and its occasional redemption.
It is generally accepted that we are all responsible for our actions.
Except for when we’re kids, that is.
When you are a minor, you are absolved of at least partial responsibility for what you do. The young get breaks, lighter sentences, second chances and are afforded a number of institutionalized clemencies they won’t get when they’re grown up. It feels instinctively correct that children should bear less responsibility than adults. Our common sense confirms it, too. They are less capable than adults. Even the law upholds a difference in its different treatment of the two.