Me: Okay, Calvin, time for you to take the wheel.

Calvin: No!

Me: Oh, come on. Daddy’s tired, so you need to drive us home. I’ll ride in the car seat.

Calvin: No! I might hit people’s dogs!

Me: Well, that’s very thoughtful of you. What about the people? Aren’t you worried about hitting them?

Calvin: [Silence]

We were on our way home, Kat and I.  When we took a left onto the bridge, a guy in a truck, who had been waiting to turn right, inexplicably turned in front of us.  After narrowly missing him — I swerved and he braked at the last second — I cursed at him and shook my fists and did all the regular things you do when you feel wronged as a driver.  We drove on, my heart pounding, and I’d almost forgotten about my five-year-old daughter in the back seat until she suddenly piped up.

“And that’s why you wear seat belts!” she said.

Me: Why did you tape that piece of paper over your cubby?

Kat: (exasperated, hands on hips) That’s because too many kids were putting notes in my cubby. Too many notes!

Me: Oh. You mean, you don’t like it when kids put notes in your cubby?

Kat: (silence)

Me: What if someone really likes you and wants to put something there? Like a gift or something? You don’t want them to do that?

Kat: (big sigh of the precocious four year-old) Daaad, they can always lift up the paper and put it in there.