Andy Laats

And then we decided just to buy one of everything and cracked up laughing at the number of sizes and shapes and approaches.

Or the time with Gwen.

It looked like she was about to break down.

So I jump into mama bear mode, thinking something went terribly wrong.

But then she burst into these tears of joy and told me about something that went unbelievably right.

Or the after-school pickup with Drew.

I'd done after-school pickups close to 3,000 times.

So he hops in the minivan, grabs his pretzels.

I notice that his lips are getting chapped, so I hand him the chapstick, the stuff that doesn't sting him, and he puts it on.

He's comforted.

He's home.

After a few minutes of quiet driving, we come to a red light.

Drew goes, Dad, what's your deepest desire?

Yeah.

They weren't doing poems on deepest desire at school.

He just came up with it.

I lock eyes with him, my brain racing.

Quick, quick, quick, what's my deepest desire?

What a great learning moment.

Something I can say to change this kid's life.