When I was a little boy, my dad was building a fence around our backyard and as he remembers it I came running to him asking if I could help. My parents tell me that I had a kids version of the toolset with a toolbelt and a plastic hammer and things of that nature so I could imitate what dad did. However, on this particular day I wanted to use big boy tools. I want to do use my dad's hammer. I asked him to use it and he, as any good father should, said absolutely no. But when he turned his back to me I picked it up anyways and proceeded to try and hit the fence with it as if I was hitting a nail. Turns out I missed the fence completely and slammed the hammer into my finger. Obviously this was a very traumatic experience for me as my finger swelled up and I cried really loud and my dad looked like a remiss father to my mother and so on and so forth. The point being, in the hands of my dad that hammer with useful. It had a purpose and he was capable and able to use that hammer to fulfill that purpose. In my hands, it led to disaster.