A few days ago my daughter was driving her daughter (my pretty, precocious, learning-to-read 6-year-old granddaughter, that is) to ballet class, but the little girl suddenly shouted “STOP!” to her mom, pointing a finger up as if to the heavens.

My daughter put on the brakes, frantically asking, “What’s the matter?”

“We have to go to PaPa’s house,” S insisted in her 1^st grade know-it-all tone. Continue reading →