The two of you roar away.

Jump on or keep roaming, drive or ride, as it suits you. Not all of your destinations will be good ones—not the crossings your mother and I, your Papa and father, would like. You will want to speed, undoubtedly, and I’ll try not to say, “Don’t,” because that would only make you drive faster.

TELL HIM TO BE KIND TO WOMEN BY NANCY DAFOE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 60

The woman stopped us on the William Howard Taft Bridge over Rock Creek Gorge in Washington, DC, and said, “Tell him to be kind to women.”

Wait. What? Back up, please. The subject boy in the cautionary from this stranger was 14 months old. How was I, my daughter, and son-in-law supposed to take such unsolicited advice from this tall woman in a camel-hair coat with a red silk scarf at her throat?

Enzo, dear grandson, my advice to you— No, that is not right. 

Barely more than a year old, you were not just walking, but hopping, jumping, dancing, because getting around on two feet was still an exciting enterprise, your little fin…