How I Became a Better Father By Writing a Book

I watched her little leaning body, puffed up in a pink winter coat, tip over and out of the shopping cart, her head striking the concrete first. The rest of her settled on the floor of [f500link]Home Depot[/f500link]. She was 20 months old. My daughter, Harper. For a moment, I just stood over her, staring, waiting, frozen in panic. She was only lying there. Not crying. Not doing anything. I scooped her up and ran out of the store. In the car, I called my sister, a nurse.