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Having a kid means giving them permission to ruthlessly own you forever

I am not a dad, but I've spent 32 years on this Earth having one, so I have a little inside info. And that info is this: When you become a parent, you are entering a relationship in which you will be cruelly, lovingly, teasingly and routinely owned for the rest of your life. Yes, that little bundle of joy who you brought home from the hospital -- the one whose nose you sucked boogers from when they were too weak to do it themselves, the one you taught to ride a bike, the one whose boo-boos you kissed when that bike ride went oh so wrong -- will exist primarily to mock you until the end of time.

It's simply how it goes.

It's how it went when I would tease my dad on his way to work in the morning while I lounged out on the couch watching SportsCenter, or (correctly) call the smooth jazz and soft rock that he loved "old person music." And it's how it goes even if you're a legendary athlete -- just ask David Ortiz.

But it was his duty as my father to accept these barbs lovingly thrown his way. And it's David Ortiz's job as a parent to accept the same from his children.

The beloved former Red Sox DH celebrated his 44th birthday this week. Befitting his status as literally every person's favorite person, players wished him well -- from former teammate and Hall of Famer Pedro Martinez, to Pirates outfielder Gregory Polanco, to 1970s greats like Luis Tiant, to zillions of fans.

None of that matters to D'Angelo Ortiz, David's 15-year-old son. When he posted a photo of dear old pops for his birthday, he made sure to finish it by ripping his dad.

That's right, hidden beneath all those well-wishes was D'Angelo dunking on Dad for how he dresses -- a classic as old as time itself. Even Ortiz, who does his best to still be young and cool and vital (choosing outfits like this one instead of polo shirts and ill-fitting khakis) can't escape the bullying from his progeny.

And guess what? Ortiz simply has to grin and take it. He knows it. Other dads know it. Every writer on every sitcom in the history of humankind knows it. It's the natural order of things. It doesn't matter who you are, or how high in the world you are: The king and the pauper, the World Series legend and the regular schmo are all the same. Your children will make fun of you.

And sometimes, your kids own you so bad, you have to miss ballgames.