There is a large wooden gate designed for a kid to open and close and open and close to pacify a manic-obsessive heart's content. A toddler of the boy variety is doing just that. His father warns him to stop because he will pinch his fingers. The warnings turn to shouts. The father stomps over, yanks the offending fingers away from the door, and again reprimands the crying boy. He pulls the kid away from the door and leaves him standing there in tears. And then. The father reaches over and pinches the already sobbing little boy on the chest. Hard. See, if the door won't pinch you. I will. And the father walks back to his bench.
By the way, as far as I can determine, the door is designed in such a way that it is nearly impossible to pinch little fingers.
By the way, as far as I can determine, the door is designed in such a way that it is nearly impossible to pinch little fingers.
