Something funny happened the other day. The mother of my kids’ friend brought my daughter back home after a play date, and asked if she could speak to me privately for a second. At these words, I felt a chill, because my daughter is something of a loose cannon. She is five years old, and has silky, honey-colored hair, large doe eyes, dimpled cheeks like a rose in bloom—and the mind of an unhinged baboon. Not to mention that she idolizes her brothers, ages 7 and 9, and strives mightily to keep up with their sophisticated culture of violence and poop jokes.
So I was worried. But the mother was concerned about something different: It seems that my daughter somehow found out that her...READ MORE