Ah, to be a child again: running through sprinklers with a Kool-Aid mustache, screaming nonsense, and disrobing in public without getting arrested. But being a child isn’t always idyllic, as this week’s headlines reveal. Best to beef up on these horror stories now so you don’t spit out your beer if they come up this weekend. You’re welcome … sort of.

Two young brothers in Lynn were severely burned by hot water in their bathtub when left unsupervised by their babysitter. It’s enough to have parents pining for the halcyon days when babysitters just stole from the fridge or passed out in front of the television.

Good news: UMass won’t pillage parents’ pockets next year (bar challenge: say that one three times fast). The public university has announced a tuition and fee freeze for in-state undergrads, pending budget approval. And we all know what smaller tuition costs mean: a bigger beer budget! More money for books!

A Danvers man allegedly abused his girlfriend’s three-year-old son by pouring hot sauce into the kid’s mouth and taping it shut. As a drunken, consensual bar dare? Teetering somewhere between immature and epic. When inflicted on a defenseless child? A felony charge.

A federal judge has ruled that prosecutors cannot use Dzhokhar Tsarnaev’s oath of citizenship against him at his trial as evidence of his “betrayal of the United States.” Guess they’ll just have to fall back on the whole triple murder/terrorism/police shoot out thing.

After a JetBlue flight attendant refused to allow a child use the bathroom as a Boston-bound plane sat on the tarmac for half an hour, the three year old peed in her seat, thus making the journey far more enjoyable for her fellow passengers, who enjoyed  the ambient smell of ammonia.

The Board of Directors at American Apparel apparently woke up from a decade-long nap and realized that CEO Dov Charney, who has been accused of sexual harassment and assault, behaves badly. The company ousted Charney due to “alleged misconduct.” Take a page out of Charney’s playbook and show up at the bar in a Gold-lamé speedo, then explain to horrified on-lookers that they have to understand your outfit “in the context of the fashion industry”  (Don’t actually do that.)