In 1992, on Thanksgiving night, I was reading a bedtime story to my then-four-year-old daughter, Janelle. I had to put her brother, Grant, to bed so I gave her a kiss on the forehead and said goodnight.
As I was getting up to leave, she tugged at my shirt, trying to get me to lay back down. Then she stupefied me, Mom, What's the most important thing about being human?
That's a good answer, Mom, but I wanna think about it some more tomorrow, Janelle said. What an old-soul response. I always told her to think for herself, but I never expected her to do it at the ripe ole age of four, three months shy of her 5th birthday. Such a profound question from a young child.
How would you answer her question?