When my eldest son was a little boy, I did something that felt quietly monumental in the moment and slightly ridiculous — I created a Gmail account in his name.
He was 3 years old. Far too young to know what email was, let alone care about it. My BlackBerry (yes, I had a BlackBerry, it was 2010) probably looked more like something he could play games on.
At that stage of life, his interests were vast but often limited to dinosaurs, Duplo, bouncy balls, and snacks. Lots of snacks. There was also him asking “why?” approximately 275 times an hour. But I had the vague sense that childhood moved too quickly and that memories — especially the small…
