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The Age of Responsibility

I trusted my son with a steak knife this morning.

The equivalent of saying, “I love you.  I’m so proud of you.  I can’t believe how much you’re growing.”

At which time my son started slicing mushrooms with the air of someone trusted.

His whole being resonated with worth and purpose.

And he sliced as if nothing else mattered but these mushrooms.

And nothing did.

Until he ran outside and found this worm.

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