My daughter's lengthy adolescence routinely found me standing in the breeze blowing in from windows she'd just escaped out of, although she was already grounded. Now she has two little girls of her own, one of whom will be 13 after a mere half-dozen years flit by. Which means there is a God. Once, my then 2-year-old granddaughter Ryan ran off down the sidewalk, with my daughter in sweaty pursuit, and I watched with pure pleasure. "Awful when they just take off like that," I said, stifling a grin, when they came back.