I was striding down the darkened hallway toward the kitchen one morning last week when Savannah, in a bit of a hurry, exited the kitchen into the hallway. She took a sharp, surprised breath when we nearly bumped into each other, then exhaled in relief as she noticed it was me.
"Oh! It's just you, daddy!" she piped as a relieved smile spread across her face. "I thought you were Satan." With that, she circumnavigated my legs and proceeded to scurry to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
What the-? Maybe it's time for a haircut and a shave? Is it the callous disregard with which I smush roaches, centipedes, and spiders? Perhaps I wear my black robes around the house too often? Regardless, maybe it's time for me to adopt an "angel of light" approach to parenting. The black magic is creating the wrong impression.