Six months after Hope's first tactical support engagement we'd dealt with seventeen more incidents requiring her unique abilities, and watching my daughter rack up combat experience at age three-and-a-half was giving me permanent anxiety that no amount of breathing exercises could fix.
"Phasing entity at western border." The alerts had become routine enough that Hope didn't even look up from her breakfast. "Standard response team dispatched. Requesting Hope on standby if needed."
Hope on standby if needed. Right. Our three-and-a-half-year-old was now part of formal response protocols.
"I finish breakfast first." Hope's response was matter-of-fact. "The team can handle initial containment. I come if they actually need me. That's the protocol."
That's the protocol. Right. She'd memorized tactical response procedures.
"When did you get so casual about threat alerts?" I asked because the shift from excited-to-help to professional-assessment had happened gradually but completely.
