Remember to Look Up

A friend of mine occasionally drives by my house in a bright red convertible. She has no children, and breezes through town with the top down whenever the temperature sneaks above 70 degrees.

I hate her.

I was still driving my own convertible up to Mare’s first birthday. She was just a week old the first time I tucked her in the back seat, rear-facing in her little bucket.

See, I thought. Not everything has to change.