
It had rained all night, and the morning of her eleventh birthday, a heavy fog settled over the neighborhood. "We can do whatever you want later," Paige's mom said. "Do you want to go out for dinner? Or I could take you to the mall?"
“Can I ride my bike?”
“Not now, maybe later if the fog clears.”
“Can you drive me over to Tara’s house?”
“Sure, I'll drive you over when the fog clears.”
Her mother liked everything to be safe. Her mother liked to see where everyone was and that they were okay.
"Why don't you go try out your new barre for a little while? Your daddy spent a whole night installing that for you."
"I know," Paige said. "I like it."