I started writing something a week and a half ago, about how it is dangerous to be six – hell – dangerous to be a child in America. But I think it’s just dangerous to be a child period. You can’t quite protect yourself yet, your words don’t always accurately describe what you mean to say. Grown ups don’t always take you seriously.
My daughters turned six in September. I am grateful for every minute with them since they showed up, kicking and screaming and being themselves. I will do my best to protect them. But I will not arm myself with a gun, though the thought did cross my mind for a moment in the past weeks. I wish I could teach them to become temporarily invisible, without having the ability to use that trick on me.