I do not believe in bubble-wrapping the world for the sake of The Children®, especially since I don't have any. In the interest of the greater good, though, I don't complain too much about having to subsidize other people's
mistakes precious miracles. But, God damn it, the nanny state has encroached directly on my life today, and I'm not amused.
My mail order prescriptions arrived, and I had to wait for my husband to open the damned bottles. I had told the pharmacy that I wanted plain old plastic caps. Lo and behold, there were the plain old plastic caps, at the bottom of the bag. (Note to AdvanceRx: there's a strong correlation between conditions that merit industrial strength prescription NSAIDs and conditions that make it painfully fucking difficult to open childproof bottles.) There was an explanation on the receipt of why they default to childproof bottles, and I really wish I hadn't run it through the shredder. Basically, it amounts to covering their asses. Some negligent parent would leave Mother's Little Helpers within Junior's reach, and then turn around and sue the pharmacy, the prescribing doctor, the Post Office, etc.
But why does this apply to my child-free household? Because some little bastard might steal the package off my porch and then overdose? (Don't scoff; it happened a few years ago in Arlington, MA. There was the expected hue and cry about the "poor kids" who overdosed, and little mention of the fact that they stole an MS patient's muscle relaxants from his porch. Somehow I doubt that they had to make restitution.)
Anyway, my modest proposal: easy open caps for everyone! And let's bait the little bastards by putting drugs on everyone's porches! An experiment with a honkin' dose of magnesium citrate might teach 'em a lesson. Or Ritalin! Haldol! Ipecac! The possibilities are endless!
But what about The Children®? My question exactly! What about 'em? I don't have them and don't want to be painfully thwarted in my own house because of other people's negligence. This is my house, and it's a Natural Selection Zone. The bubble wrap stops at my door.