When a child picks up a tiny piece of food and feeds themselves for the first time, do we celebrate and coo and clap and praise effusively, or do we move right into the longing for when they’ll finally use a knife and fork?

Why is it so hard to reach beyond the conceivable, safe and realistic growth space that’s just a teeny stretch out of our grasp?

Last night I dreamed our house was being torn down. I was sitting in a chair looking out the window and marveling at all the rubble that accumulated. (I know in real life if our house were being torn down, I wouldn’t be sitting in a chair looking out the window. But remember, this is a dream!)