Zero to sixty
Running maniacally through the tall grass around the tree after the hula hoop show, Brenna runs straight into a down tree at full speed. Laying on the ground she holds her knee, wailing, “I think it’s broke!”
“It will feel better in a minute,” I assure as I scoop her up and carry her to the nearby bench where she cries in my shoulder. Tending to a hurt child is one of a few things in life that come from deep within the primal brain. It feels inexorable.
“Are you ready to explore further?” I ask after she’s finished crying.
“Can you carry me?” she asks.
“Alright,” I concede.