This morning I took my (foster) kid to the dentist, and watched her teeth get care for the first time in years. 
As we checked out they asked if she’d be with us in six months for a follow up, and I had to tell them that we never know.
We go to the checkups and teach the lessons, and hope that they remember them in their future, even though we don’t what that looks like. 

This afternoon I was in the car with my family on the way to the pool for the fourth day in a row. 
We smelt like sunscreen and summer, but we were going over what to do if the shooter approaches your classroom. 
Some stressors don’t disappear on the last day of school, some terrors ring true long past the final bell. 

Standing in water up to our chests my wife and I “oohed” and “ahed” as we watched a trans teen strut in her first gender affirming swimsuit. 
And then I whispered “I’m so proud, and so worried. Do you know the statistics for Black trans women?”
She’s fierce and brave and everything I wasn’t at that age, I hope that she can always make a splash. 

Today was mundane and typical. 
Today was terrifying and tragic. 
Today was our norm.