There are footprints on my dashboard, and fingerprints smeared on my windows. No matter how many times I tell her to stop, my 3 year old can't seem to avoid making a mess of my car. In fact, she seems to take great pleasure in making as much of a mess as she can. She doesn't do this in my wife's minivan. Oh, no - she has to save it for my sporty little convertible.
Today I was haunted again by images in the emergency room. Two children, shot “execution-style” by their father, a Chicago police officer, who later took his own life. Both children were wheeled in, and immediately the resident and I went to work with the ER and trauma teams. The girl was beyond resuscitation, but her older brother lasted a week until his brain cried “ENOUGH!”.
There are footprints on my dashboard, and fingerprints smeared on my windows. I think I'll leave them there for a while. It's time to kiss my little angels goodnight.