Children

My daughter has gotten into the habit of trying to rate the things she does, the food she tastes, the movies she watches, or the situations she experiences. She does it for fun, it’s not an obsession. It’s a pastime that we introduced when she was eating new things that she didn’t like, and I asked her to express her judgment with a grade because all in all, it wasn’t a two as she imagined: she could even give those vegetables a six.

It is a time when I’m thinking a lot about my daughter’s future. She is growing up, and among the various considerations I make, there is one—clearly the least hoped for—that at some point in her life, she will grow up without me. I’m talking about his next recent life, because as far as I’m concerned, dying is the last thing I want to do. Inevitable, but final.