In an effort to preserve the artifacts of childhood without the artifacts of childhood, Carolyn and I have been trying to preserve Sam’s efforts digitally.

<p>
  I came home after work one day recently, and at some point in the evening, out of the blue, Sam says:
</p>

<blockquote>
  <p>
    &#8220;I wrote you a poem daddy. I left it on your bedside table. You can read it when you go to bed. If you want to.&#8221;
  </p>
</blockquote>

<p>
  And sure enough, she had, though I was unable to read it without help, and I never did go back to learn what it really was&#8230;
</p>