“Dad, stop! Stop! Scott fell out!” Brown eyes huge with panic, a healthy dose of fear paralyzed our eight-year-old son midway in the motor home.

Hubby was driving a new-to-us, thirty-foot camper. Confused, he glanced in the rearview mirror, all the way to the back where I had been entertaining our two kids. Our eighteen-month old had bounced off the bed and landed where our eldest son couldn’t see him.

“It’s all right. Scott didn’t fall out,” I assured both my husband and son. “But you might want to pull over.” Digging a wiggling toddler, who hadn’t yet realized his predicament, from the side of the mattress and the carpeted wall, might require more strength than I could muster. Plus our oldest needed reassurance that his younger brother was actually safe inside the camper, not left behind on the pavement. He needed to know that he wasn’t alone with his fear and that we were there for him…

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