Extra: Lucas Gibson's Survival PhilosophyLucas was three now.Even though his "zombie alert" had turned out to be a false alarm, he looked like he had lived a thousand lives since he was a toddler.While other rich kids were playing with Legos, he was busy figuring out how to build traps using toothpicks and rubber bands.One day, his kindergarten organized a family camping trip.A group of wealthy socialites, dressed head-to-toe in Hermès hiking gear, were posing for photos on the lawn.They had brought red wine, steaks, and exquisite pastries.The moment I opened Lucas' backpack, my face instantly fell.There wasn't a single snack inside—just a bundle of nylon rope, a compass, and a pair of my eyebrow-trimming scissors."Lucas, we're going on a spring picnic, not a wilderness survival expedition."Lucas looked up, his gaze deep and intense. "Mom, we must always be prepared."Fine, whatever made him happy.Mary Hendrix from the tent next door strolled over to flaunt."Oh
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