The other day my daughter used her panic voice in the kitchen. When I came in to inquire about what non-essential thing had happened, I found oldest son standing rather stiff and bug-eyed.
“What’s going on, guys?” I asked.
Oldest son informed me, “Grace just told me there’s a bug on my back, which I’m not necessarily afraid of.”
How did he sum up my feelings about life so perfectly? There’s a future ahead of me which I’m not necessarily afraid of…