Several months ago our family went to a swimming pool. I was down in the deep end by the diving board swimming around, and my four-year-old, Savannah, came tottering into the shallow end of the pool. She can't swim yet, but she wears these big orange "floaties." She can't sink with these huge orange floaties on.

Savannah came down the steps, and as soon as she got out there in the water, she said "Daddy, I'm scared. I want to come where you are."

I chuckled at her naivete and said, "Savannah, it's a lot deeper down here."

She said, "I don't care. I want to be where you are."

"Okay, come on," I said.

She began dog-paddling across the pool ... three-foot ... six-foot ... nine-foot ... 12-foot-deep water. When she came up to me she grabbed my neck, and her look of panic gave way to relief. Next to her father she felt secure, and it made very little difference how deep or how dangerous the water was.