A few months ago, I realized it was time to have a conversation with my tweenage son that I had been dreading.
It wasn’t where babies come from. It wasn’t about death or illness or substance abuse.
My son, always sensitive and inquisitive, was sitting next to me Googling random things. Then he Googled his dad, and my heart stopped. Because I knew the next search would probably be me.
I haven’t Googled my name …