Son Number Three toddled out to see me off the other morning. I got him a juice cup and laid out a handful of dry cereal on a plastic plate and went about gathering up my stuff. He followed me down to the front door and asked where I was going.
"Well, I'm going to work, little boy."
"You going to work?" he asked. "Why?"
"Because I've got to go to work, little one. The family needs me to."
"Are you fighting roars?"
In our house, monsters and spooky things and everything else that's out to get you and eat you and destroy you are called 'roars.' He looked up at me and took a couple of sips.
I stared down into his innocent eyes and thought about all the future dreams and successes that I pray he'll have. It only took me a second to answer.
"Yes, little boy, that's exactly what I'm doing"