I’m convinced that 3 year-olds hold all the secrets of life in their minds, until society beats them out with long-division and dangling participles.

One morning when my son was 3, I was rushing to get him to preschool. He was (and remains) interminably slow in the mornings and I hadn’t yet cracked the code that would move him into second gear. I was particularly impatient that morning when he said (slowly, of course), “Mom! Slow down! When you slow down, I calm down, and things move faster.”

So, yeah…problem solved.

Mostly.

*Thanks for the kind words about my dad, Jonas Ellison

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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