“Get your fingers out of there!” was the last thing I ever said to my son. Davey was dipping his hand in the tank, letting reef-fish peck at his fingertips. I should’ve told him to carry on. Returned his sheepish grin with my own. But I scowled at him and left. How long will he repeat that moment? As long as he lives, probably. But if you’re reading this, and my story is out, he might live long enough to forgive me.