Each morning before it gets too hot, Edith’s nanny takes her on a walk around the neighborhood. While they are out, I pace from room to room, wringing my hands and thinking about all the ways that Edith might be killed on her walk.

I pretend that I am not doing this, because it is insane. Next week and going forward, I will have to work while they are on their walk, and that might help a little bit.

But I’m starting to get a sneaking suspicion that this (endless, heightened, ludicrous anxiety about my child coming to harm in some way) is just how life is going to be from now on. Which…sucks? But also, I’m not sure that I wasn’t warned.


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