We’d battled over his sloooow-to-get-moving-habit and he left for the bus grumbling at me. When the news came through, I was overcome with grief, choking back tears from my four year-old audience. I was so annoyed by his (so normal) behavior that I’d failed to even say a proper goodbye. He is the same age as so many of those poor children whose lives were taken so prematurely, so violently. All I could do was hug him tighter when he walked off the bus, hold his hand on the walk home, make cocoa and read books and light the candles for dinner. All I could do.