March 17, 2009
Dear Luke:
You are four years old. You play hard. I love that.
Last night, you went to kick a ball, but you missed. Somehow, you snapped backwards sending your head into the grass and dirt. You cried. I hugged you and held you. Then I asked you what hurt, and you responded, "My brain." I tried not to chuckle outwardly, and then I said to you, "I guess you'll now be afraid to go outside and kick the ball around." You smiled and told me I was wrong, totally mistaken! I'm sure you're out there kicking the ball around today.
Warmly,
Daddy
