There ought to be a waiting period for parents who think they want to purchase wooden whistles from science center gift shops.
Picture the poor harried woman, standing in line at the check out, with whiny, sticky-faced children clinging to her legs and hanging from her shoulders.
“So you think you’d like to buy this wooden whistle for your 5-year-old son, Ma’am? No problem. Just fill out this paper work and if in 24 hours you still think the wooden whistle is a good idea, we’ll be glad to sell it to you.”
You know, something like that. To protect us. From ourselves.