We were driving back from town last night — me, Emma, and Trevor — when out of the blue, Emma says, “I’m glad we don’t have to tell our bodies to do everything. Like telling ourselves to breathe, telling our blood to move around our bodies? Because then if you were reading a book and you got really into it, you might forget to tell yourself to breathe and then elkgh!” — and in the rearview I see her pretty head jerk sideways, eyes closed, tongue out, stone dead save a suppressed smile at the corners of her mouth.

It is a good thing we don’t have to worry about telling our hearts to beat and our lungs to breathe, so we don’t accidentally drop dead. However, if everyone looked as happily cute in death as Rose, perhaps we would worry less about it!