My daughter, Clara, age seven, at 6:40 AM:
“Dad, I want to know what a boll weevil is. It’s a beetle. I know that, but I want to know more. I want to know if it’s an invasive species, because I’m guessing that farmers do not like the boll weevil, and I want to know if they live around here, because they eat cotton, and I really love cozy, cottony things.”
Ten minutes later, with a manuscript still waiting to be completed and almost a week late, I know too much about boll weevils.
These were not the conversations I ever expected to have with my daughter when I dreamed of fatherhood years ago..
