Her bookshelves at home still creak with the weight of the Dr. Seuss and “Charlie and Lola” books she was reading a few years ago, when she had to pry each word apart like she was trying to get on a bike for the first time. Now the training wheels have come off and she flies off faster than I can run after her. As with so many other things, I must slowly relax my control, trusting that she will make the right choices -- and hope she doesn’t find some training-bra version of “50 Shades of Grey.” Rural Irish libraries are pretty safe, but these days, you never know.
“Can I pick this?” she said, grabbing a book from the children’s section. “It says it’s a vampire romance.”
I’d want to look that one over first, I said.