Not a bloody chance!
With that knowledge I could probably do something much more constructive.
I love my boys, they are endlessly fascinating and wholly beautiful and they have unlocked hitherto undreamt of levels of compassionate adulthood in me.
But the eternal guilt and shame at the inadequacy of my parenting skills, the utter impossibility of preparing them for a world that is spiralling dangerously off course, the stress, the torment and the futility of it all makes me rue those naive and arrogant moments of passion when I briefly believed that we stood a chance of doing this job proficiently.
I could have saved them and myself a lot of anguish and used the knowledge I now possess, to turn my brief material existence into an endless celebration of the gift of my own life and influence on the earth, without the crushing doubt and anxiety of relentless daily failure.