Every morning, I send my boys out into the world. And every day, I worry about them.
I don?t walk my kids into school, and I don?t do the car line either. I drop them a block away and, if the coast is clear, they sprint down the sidewalk until they reach the crossing guards. Then they wait patiently and proceed carefully through the busy four-way stop leading to the main building. They?ve been doing this for years, but my oldest graduated to middle school and now rides his bike most mornings, so these days, my youngest runs that dark pathway alone.
One particular morning, my little guy had a special project due, which included a model and tri-fold board about an iconic North American landform. He needed some help with the haul, so I parked in my normal spot a block away, and I joined him on the short jaunt to class. After getting him settled and bidding farewell, I retraced my steps. But to my surprise, the crossing guard stopped me to confirm if he was, indeed, my child. Hesitantly, I nodded, wondering if she was about to scold me for bypassing the dreaded car line.

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