I had a habit of sleeping late on Saturday mornings. My wife was an early-riser, so she would wake up and then send one of the kids to get me up somet...me later. My son, Robbie, was 6 and my daughter was 9 at the time. My son would come in and jump on me. We would wrestle just like any father and son. It was good to get the blood pumping.My daughter, though, was more stealthy. Suzie liked to sneak up on me. She told me later on that she started out being curious about what was in my boxers when. ”“Elizabeth, sit down!” my dad ordered.“No,” she replied, calmly but firmly.She walked out of the kitchen, ignoring my dad’s calls for her to come back, and I followed her out the front door to the driveway.“Grant Park?” she asked. “Please?”I nodded and got into my car while she got into hers, and we drove to Grant Park. We parked side by side and when she got out of her car she sprinted around to where I was standing and flung herself into my arms, sobbing. I let her cry for the best part of. More

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