Top Management and I have a friend who once told us that it never gets easier, that you don't actually worry less as they get older, the worries just change, shift, transmogrify and, if anything, they get worse, since they're no longer just a matter of putting some bacitracin and bandaids on the boo-boos.
Which brings us to tonight. I'm getting some IMs from Max about, of all things, who would win, Piano Man or Rocket Man, and arguments are being put forth for the pros and cons of each side. And she causally adds:
(I'm half paying attention to making sure the fire alarm doesn't start to go off—someone spilled food on the burners and it's smoking a little)
opIOYUP that just caught fire for a second but it's okay fire's out and the window is open
we're all good
didn't mean to panic you, sorry, it's all good, I promise everything is fine
it was only on fire for a split second
I mean...look. I don't think of myself as one of them helicopter parents or nothing but what in the hell, Max. You know, it's not like "opIOYUP" is too concerning or anything. Oh, it only caught fire for a split second? A length of time that only actually exists in superhero comics? I'm so relieved.