Bringing a baby to a movie theater should be a punishable crime.

Allow me to explain. As I do, keep in mind what I said. The people who bring babies to movie theaters, not the babies themselves, are the focus of my ire.

First, anyone who knows me can attest to my love of babies. Planned or unplanned, normal or abnormal, I’m pro-life through and through. Babies make the world and its spaces, even its movie theaters, better.

Second, every conceived child is a gift of God and inherently worthy of a parent’s strictest attention and devotion. When a person becomes a parent, the gravity of human existence changes. For as selfish as one might have been, the child now occupies the universe’s center. In every decision, the child is every calculation’s heftiest variable. Into and through every opportunity, the child’s upward trajectory and welfare remain constant. Self-sacrifice is and must be every parent’s first inclination.

Third, babies are future adults. Their course toward adulthood requires modeling. This is forever a variable in parenting’s calculations, too. Parents continually recalibrate their lives, aware that they’re creating adults—people who, even as they’ll be self-centered on occasion, won’t be overcome by the inclination in all circumstances. Instead, they’ll be capable of mindfulness for others proven sturdiest when they, too, become parents.

Parents who bring babies into movie theaters demonstrate converse to what I described. They’re self-centered in the worst way. They want to see a movie, and that’s that. The babysitter canceled? They’ll just take her along. Why is she so restless and inconsolable? Could it be the massive screen flashing and its terrifying images? Could it be the Dolby sound system’s chest-rattling explosions and the ear-piercing screams? Well, no worries. She’ll be okay. Beyond this, what care is there for anyone else’s movie-going enjoyment, even as the little human continues doing loudly and consistently what little humans are supposed to do during such moments of intense overstimulation?

Well, at least they didn’t leave the child at home unattended, right? I suppose that’s a good thing. It stirs hope.

However, beyond hope’s tiniest particle, these are the types of people with the potential to leave their children in cars while they blow a few hours in the casino. They’re the same folks in public spaces who, instead of interacting with their love-hungry little ones, spend their time faceplanted and scrolling on their mobile phones. Indeed, they produced something but do not necessarily care for that something. It’s a product and nothing more.

The parenting I’ve described couldn’t be any further from The Glenlivet 12-year-old Double Oak edition’s upbringing. An entry-level and relatively youthful dram, this whisky was conceived and then shepherded by those who care.

With a surprisingly malty nose edged by tropical fruits, an initial sniff is delightfully full. A sip continues to prove The Glenlivet a dutiful parent. Alight with malted peaches, the palate slips away quickly, like a beautiful child with a short attention span. The swift but mildly fruit-filled finish remembers its youthfulness. A few more years in the barrel and it would’ve likely matured to become something even better.

Although, it’s more than sufficient for soothing an onlooking parent of four’s aching heart.

Indeed, whenever I observe the behaviors I previously described, I experience disgust combined with a desire to adopt. In the movie theater, I experienced the same, with an additional urge to offer my babysitting services so that my fellow moviegoers—people who, just like me, likely spent mortgage-sized dollars on tickets and snacks—could view the film uninterrupted. I’d gladly take the little one into the lobby to read her a story, play peek-a-boo, and so many other beautiful things a parent only has so much time in a child’s life to do.

I might even give the child back.