Small Things

A decade ago, my wife and I and our two boys were driving somewhere I forget–the destination as always being much less important than the moving together in a comfortable, dedicated space. Brennan, our then four year old, had brought his then favorite stuffed playmate with him–it changed every week or so–and made a huge fuss about being sure Elmo had his seat belt on. When he finally got Sean, our then twelve year old, to help buckle him up, the car quieted down nicely.

So I turn around to see this...