Is nothing private anymore?
My eleven-year-old found the diary I kept when I was her age. Here’s what it looks like. Fortunately, it was locked. I mean, who knew what ridiculousness I had written in there, never ever anticipating that one day I would have a daughter of my own—three in fact!—who would be interested in reading it. I panicked. Then I remembered the wonderful thing about a diary. It’s private. Yep, there are some things in our lives that are meant to be kept close to the chest. Or at least they should be. Can you believe I remembered the combination thirty years later? Sorry, I digress.