Rebekah climbed onto my lap and made herself comfortable.

She was four or five years old.

She pushed my hair back and said, “Why’s your forehead so high?”

You gotta love children.

She noticed her hair, and mine. On another occasion, she said, “Dad, do you cut your bangs, or do they just not grow?”

Rebekah’s grown now, and she has an almost-five-year-old daughter who’s just like her.

Watch out, world.