Yesterday Leta started school. Fourth grade. The grade she says “where they walk around with all those heavy textbooks.” She says that’s the part she’s not looking forward to, and she’s talked about it frequently always accompanied by an, “UGH.” I didn’t want to tell her that it gets so much worse, and in college when I was carrying around four or five huge books on the walk from my apartment to campus I developed a huge, aching knot in my shoulder that didn’t go away for years. So instead I said, “Don’t worry. You won’t need physical therapy until your late teens.”