Stephanie visited from Pittsburgh last week. A gentle hippie married to an even gentler one, they're raising gentle kids who go to a hippie private school. The kids, both achingly sweet, do not watch TV. They do not know from violence or swearing. All their toys have educational merits.
I made sure that their Nerf machine guns arrived a few hours after Mom departed for the airport. To heighten the kids' aim, I included five pounds of chocolate-covered espresso beans.
By the time I greeted Steph at the Seattle airport, she had talked to her husband. She hugged me, then cupped my face with her hands. "Who hurt you, John?"