My sweet Agalia, your mom and I have become reluctant crusaders lately. I’m calling us crusaders because from that superlative moment when you exited Mom’s tummy and entered both our lives, we’ve known that there’s a long list of things we need to teach you before we can turn you loose on the world as an adult and feel like we’ve given you at least the most basic skill set for navigating life. We take that job seriously and are usually enthusiastic about the lessons we try to impart. But life inside the immediate family, at least so far, has been pretty easy. You might question our motives every now and again, but mostly you know that Mom, DJ and I love you very much and that almost everything we do is done to enrich your life and tip the odds that when you’ve grown up, you’ll have life by the horns and not by the tail.

I also said we’re reluctant. By any measure I can think of you are without doubt the sweetest little girl I’ve ever known. You give away compliments and well-wishes to friends, relatives or strangers as if you’re on a parade float with a bucket full of candy, given the task of flinging sweets of happiness on everyone below. But growing up, as we’ve watched bits of animated movies and read many, many books, it was impossible not to notice the emotional impact of even slight misfortunes of some of the book and movie characters on your psyche.

Maybe we wanted to foster in you the belief that the world is a beautiful place filled only with happy, caring people. Or maybe we just didn’t want you to feel afraid. Or more selfishly, that we didn’t want you to be afraid because that would have resulted in one or more consecutive late nights of assuring and consoling and more importantly, not sleeping. Whatever the reason was, we found ourselves editing the content of the stories we read to you on-the-fly, and making liberal use of the scene selection feature on your DVDs, all to paint the world as a place it wasn’t. A place where bad things never happen and bad people don’t exist. We’re reluctant now because we know we have to show you that in the world and in your life, there will be some shadows. Some scary places. Some bad people. You’ve seen the light, and while there’s a genuine hurt in our hearts when we do it, we’re now showing you the dark,too.

I was reminded of this when we went to help the local fire department celebrate the purchase of their newest pumper truck. It was a big, shiny red truck with hundreds of pieces of polished chrome and modern electronic gadgetry. A strong, mechanical steed added to the stable, carrying our community’s brave men and women to their duties. The fire station had been rearranged to look like a trade show for the celebration, but instead of booths full of glad-handing sales reps, it was folding tables and chairs with firefighters handing out brats, popcorn and cotton candy. Out front kids were taking turns running the remote control for the ladder truck, scrolling the ladder up and reeling it back, articulating it right and left. Out back kids were taking turns running the fire hose, knocking over a wooden cutout likeness of a fire atop a play house.

Before we took the tour of the station with Firefighter Joe, we spent a minute at the steel mesh lockers where the firefighters kept their gear; soot-covered, heavy yellow jackets, solid black firefighter helmets marred by heat, nicked and gouged no doubt while wrestling with burning structures, reminding me of the worn armor from warriors of another time. Their living quarters were clean and spartan, save for a few televisions and a newly remodeled weight room. All the kids were greeted with warm smiles and high-fives. They received plastic firefighter hats, collector cards of the new truck and a chance to sit in the driver’s seat. These guys were The Light.

When we finished with the tour, Firefighter Joe mentioned that the police station was in the other half of the building and that they were also having an open house, and we should stop over there for a tour as well. So we did.

A short digression: at our local zoo there’s a sign in front of the PENGUIN exhibit that says “Did you know that a polar bear can EAT UP TO 13 PENGUINS in a day?” No, those words aren’t the graffiti of a teenage penguin-hater. It’s text carved into a wooden placard atop a post, the message no doubt endorsed by the proprietors of the zoo. “You see those cute little flightless birds that look like they’re dressed in tuxedos, sweetie? Polar bears eat ‘em. Whole families of ‘em. Even the babies.” Is there anything that could make you feel more warm and fuzzy?

On our tour of the police station we were shown all the different headgear our local police wear and the purpose for each type. Bicycle helmet, dress uniform hat, riot gear helmet. We also got to see the reception area, which is protected by three inches of plexiglass and security cameras covering every square foot of public space. We saw the lock boxes where the police put their guns while moving detainees from their squad car to processing, from processing to a jail cell. It’s explained that the lock boxes are to prevent detainees from having the opportunity to take an officer’s handgun and lay waste to some of the police station’s occupants. It’s for everyone’s safety. Except maybe for the officer bringing in the detainee.

Later in the tour we got to see the detectives’ offices, where they investigate the crimes. Immediately across the room from where we entered was a piece of white posterboard propped up on a table. Attached to it were several pictures, a typewritten report or letter, and the brown, crusty remains of what appeared to be blood spatter. YOU KNOW, TO SHOW THE KIDS. As you might expect, huddled around the blood Rorschach in amazement were two boys who shared about 16 years between them. This was probably a good place for them, but not for a three-year-old girl who minutes before was inside the ambulance-turned-CSI vehicle, walking right up to another little girl to compliment her on how pretty her dress was. Not at all. Then the sergeant asked us if we wanted to look just around the corner and see pictures from a real homicide. REAL. HOMICIDE. When he saw our expressions he assured us the pictures didn’t have too much blood and guts. Uh, no. People lying on the ground with legs and arms bent at unnatural angles, and purple, distended tongues hanging out of their mouths like they were deer bagged on opening day? Nuh-uh. You know this thing was for kids, right? We concluded our tour of the police station shortly afterward.

If the east side of this building housed the men and women of The Light, then the west side most certainly held elements of The Dark. Elements we’ve been avoiding telling you about or teaching you to recognize and evade. Sort of like the people who would post interesting facts about the gruesome deaths of penguins at a penguin exhibit. But we know the time has come to show you The Dark, and we aren’t doing our jobs as parents if we don’t.

So now Diane and I are reading you all of your books, sans creative license, and letting the chips fall where they may. The Dark and The Light, uncensored. We’re scaring you sometimes, and getting a little less sleep at night because of it.  And our hearts tear open a little each time it happens. But we know that in scaring you a little now we’re getting you ready to face a world that can sometimes be frightening, so when you’re older you’ll be ready for anything this world can throw at you. At least that’s what we keep telling ourselves over and over as we pitch back and forth like Rainman, praying we aren’t damaging our sweet, crystalline yellow sunshine.