My baby sister just had a baby of her very own. Babies having babies. I know she’s 31, but she’ll always be 6, chasing me around, trying to get me to play with her.

Now I get to chase her around and try to get her to give me that baby for a minute.

This is my nephew, and I love him.

Thoughts from the backseat on a drive into school: “Daddy,” she begins, “maybe this is all just a play.”

Shakespearean supposing. Then, later: “I know, I know! Maybe we are all in somebody’s dream!”

Cartesian consideration.

I ask, importantly, “What do you think it would mean if we were all in a dream? Would mommy and daddy still love you?”

“Yep,” she replied, certain despite Descartes.

Yep.

According to Erin…

…I now teach music to 7-12 year olds.

It’s the details that make or break a good lie.