My daugher asked me today, “Don’t you wish Mommy was your daughter?” I replied with a chuckle, “No, definitely not.”

“Why not?” she asked. I thought about it for a minute, one horrible subject leading to the next in my mind, with her innocently asking “why, why,” unrelentingly.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” I said.

Of course, I have no intention of telling her when she’s older.