“I want to play an electric guitar,” Ed told Daddy Wes.

“We’ll see, dear,” he replied in a voice that meant, “probably not.”

But next weekend, at a garage sale, he saw one: A cherry red, silver-stringed, ready-to-rock electric guitar with a black and grey amplifier.

“That’s the one,” said Ed. “I want it.”

“Maybe another time,” said Daddy Wes.

Everyone in our family has stories we love to tell: how we all met when the kids were two and took walks while singing the “I love you, you love me, we’re a happy fam-i-ly” song, the time the kids were chased by a bull and escaped, and the time when Da’Jon chased down our homebound train. But sometimes we hate having to explain our family to other people.