|Clearly there is a situation with narrative and context, but hell if I know what it is.|
I've tried to be a helicopter parent but found my kids behave like children (this is true!) and my sartorial choices aren't up to scratch. The time is better spent hovering in front of the TV re-watching Battlestar Galactica and referencing Edward James Olmos as a role model for his portrayal of Commander Adama.
When the kids act weird I could scream, "Cylons!" and send them to the brig post haste.
A main conceit of the series is that Cylons are so human-like they confound us to detect them and challenge us philosophically with questions about what in particular makes us human. In a nutshell, these are my children. Several times I have sat down upon one not noticing the lump in the bed.
More to the point, I just can't keep up with all the things the kids are doing and saying. So rather than make a fuss and start 24/7 surveillance I allow a certain amount (a HUGE, HUGE, HUGE amount) of entropy to enter the system.
I suppose by doing so I have to give up my lordly Commander Adama role, but that's OK as long as I have a cool supporting part with plenty of special effects.