I'll never forget the day my one and only daughter Becca started school. She was scared. I could tell, but she was acting tough in front of her big brothers. She adored them, but wouldn't let them see her cry for anything.1
As soon as the door slammed shut Becca let the waterworks flow. I took her in my lap and comforted her, telling her that it was just school and that she shouldn't worry. She just looked at me with those big blue doll eyes of hers and grinned, just the tiniest grin. I knew her too well to trust that grin. "What is it, Becs?" I asked cautiously, not trusting this sudden mood change. "It's... Oh, nothing." She replied with that adorable lisp of hers, waving her hands about as if to dismiss the thought from our minds.
