We know that it is merely coincidental that there was a bomb scare and a police lock down in our neighborhood this morning that we had to wade through to get one of the kids to camp just hours after finishing The Road. We also know that you can't compare the father-son journey in the post-Apocalyptic world of The Road to our walk this morning, and yet that doesn't mean this morning's journey wasn't scary, and it doesn't mean you can feel all that safe dropping your kid off anywhere near potential violence no matter how safe it seems. Neither does it mean that it wasn't sort of eerie watching droves of people being re-directed out of the neighborhood, and away from public transportation, forcing them to walk to who knows where exactly, because at least initially you weren't quite sure where to go or how to get there. Further, we know that it is coincidental that we read The Road so shortly after reading Hush Up and Listen Stinky Poo Butt by Ken Sparling, that there was no conscious plan in terms of themes, and yet we did. We also know that comparing the somewhat quotidian horrors, frustrations and intermittent bursts of joy and awesomeness of parenting on a day-to-day basis in a non-post Apocalyptic world are not ever going to be truly comparable to that of The Road, and yet, both novels are written in sparse, at times electrifying prose, both involve anger, fear and small doses of happiness, and both possess a level of dread, you sort of know what's coming, but aren't quite sure, and maybe don't know want to know anyway. Which is not so different than parenting in any world, post-Apocalyptic or not. The Road makes you hope you never have to face any of the things captured in this story because you know that you cannot and will not be able to do so, and yet, again, it seems so possible and so real, you almost wish you didn't have to read it. But you do, because as we wrote about Hush Up and Listen Stinky Poo Butt, we read, we don't have choice, and we want to feel something when we read, we have to, and The Road ensures that we do.