Yesterday I took advantage of a beautiful afternoon and went for a walk with my 11-year-old son. We left our car in a parking lot and sauntered from one end of our small town to the other and back again.
We had a terrific time. But let’s be honest, any adventure that begins with ice cream, ends with tacos and features a visit to RadioShack is a blockbuster hit.
Not long after we began doubling back to our car, my son noticed something unusual in the gravel near some hibernating train tracks that slice through town.
[. . .]
I turned around and walked back to hear him wondering aloud about the mysterious object. He was even more intrigued when he flipped it over. “What are those lines?” he asked.
I bent down and looked. “Wow,” I said. “It’s a pregnancy test.”