My son got a paper route, which means that I, too, have a paper route. Delivering papers now is a bit different than the paper route I had when I was a kid. I’m glad I’m the parent-following-the-kid-in-the-car; it’s a lot warmer than being the kid-delivering-the-papers. Also, since I grew up in Alaska, the chances of being ambushed by a moose on my paper route were pretty high. At least in Laramie there’s nothing bigger than deer running around at 5 am.

My son comes up with creative ways of remembering which houses get papers. One of the homes on our route is “creepy tree house.” Another is “tons of cars house.” Our least favorite is “skunky house” because one time when we delivered the paper we smelled skunk spray in the air nearby.

I’m just glad all the houses are safe houses. It’s nice to live in a small town and feel okay about my kid walking around in the dark delivering papers.