When our children are babies, we endure a lot of sleepless nights. Late-night feedings and middle-of-the-night diaper changes. Sometimes a week seems like one crazy run-on day. As time goes on... They grow up and, for the most part, our nights are back to what they should be: full of blissful sleep. And then... There comes a time when they turn sixteen and tell you they're going to a concert downtown and you find yourself driving them to the GO Transit station on a cold, dark and stormy Sunday night. And you tell yourself: "They shouldn't be out here. They should be home with us. That's what Sunday evenings are for. That's the way things have been for the last 16 years." But their excitement is infectious. They board the bus and you wave goodbye. As you drive back home, you feel a lump form in your throat and tears well up in your eyes and you think to yourself: "They're just going to a damn concert!"

But that's not really the issue, is it? Will they get off at the right stop? Do they know the way to the venue? Are they making the right choices? Will they make it back to the station before the last bus departs for the night? Are they OK? And once again, like that first night home from the hospital, when everything was so new and you were so unsure of yourself, worry creeps in and the sleepless nights are back. Only this time... As much as you couldn't wait for those sleepless nights to end... Today, you'd take them back in a heartbeat.