The Parable of the Young Boy’s Midlife Crisis

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, what is halfway down an indeterminate path?”

Josh spoke thus:

A young boy was excited for his midlife crisis.  He had seen several movies in which men had midlife crises, and he thought a midlife crisis looked pretty good.

A man in a midlife crisis got to buy a new car or a new motorcycle.  The young boy owned neither a car nor a motorcycle, and had repeatedly been told that he was allowed to own neither a car nor a motorcycle.  The young boy didn’t even own a bicycle yet.  

The ownership of a bicycle had somehow become entwined with the boy’s messy room, which baffled the boy.  The boy had no intention of riding a bicycle in his room, what need was there to pick up his room?   Wouldn’t it be better to pick up the outside, where the boy would be riding the bike?  But picking up the entire outside seemed an impossible task.

Besides, the midlife crisis men never picked up their rooms.  Often the midlife crisis men even got to have rooms of their own.  Whole apartments and houses of their own.  If they were married, the midlife crisis men often moved out, frequently at their wives’ request.  They no longer had to share a room!  

The young boy had to share his room with his brother.  When the young boy went through his midlife crisis, he would move out of his room and never live with his brother again.

One thing that confused the young boy was when the midlife crisis men moved in with women other than their wives.  They finally get to move out, and they share a room on purpose?

The boy supposed that if the women just stayed a little while, like a sleepover, that wouldn’t be bad.  As long as the sleepover woman didn’t make him pick up his room.  The young boy would tell the sleepover woman to go pick up her own room, if picking things up meant so much to her.  She could even pick up the entire outdoors, if that made her happy.  Then she could rider her bike there.

Actually, the sleepover women seemed as messy as the midlife crisis men.  They left clothes all over the place.  Maybe the young boy would like the sleepover women after all.

But mostly the young boy would like the car and the motorcycle.

Midlife crisis men must be very good at counting, the boy thought.  They had to be, or else how would they know when it was the middle of their lives?  The boy would have to count very carefully to be sure he counted exactly halfway through his life.

Just to make sure, the young boy asked his father, “Dad, when’s the middle of my life?”

“You won’t know until the end,” the young boy’s father said.

“But that will be too late,” the boy said.

“Don’t I know it,” the young boy’s father said, “Don’t I know it.”