“Daddy, look!” Daniel says, riding his bike around the cul-de-sac we live on. His helmet is on a little crooked, and for a moment, I worry that he’s going to crack his head open if he falls over. But then I remember that he’s not going all that fast and he’ll be okay. God, being a parent is nerve-wracking. We’re all just winging it, right? I have no idea if the choices I’m making on his behalf are the right ones. I’m just praying they are.
