I stare at my boys.    Usually when they are sleeping, or if I can get a longer glimpse of them during a quiet moment in my head, and I think about what kind of lives they will have.   I want them to be kids as long as possible.    To have fun and ask to “play” with their friends.    I was eleven years old when I looked twice at my dolls and questioned if I was too old to play with them anymore.    I remember crying over the idea that maybe I was.   I wonder if Ty would already be asking to "hang out" with his friends, instead of "play." I want to protect them from the insecurities of high school.    I want them to stand up to the bullies, and they sure as hell better not bully others.    I loved high school and I loved my friends.    I was always happy.    With all I read today about depression and anxiety, it’s sad to think that all I want for them is to get through it unscathed and read...