that Jack talks so much! With the kids gone, we’ve got 100% together time on our hands. Here are just a few of the many thoughts whirling around in that 4-year-old brain:

“J … My name starts with J. Like Daddy’s”

“Yes… yes it does” I respond from the driver’s seat (our week is filled with back to school mom meetings and such)

“It ends with ‘k’ like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah. ‘K’.  You know that thing that Daddy calls you.”

Hmmm… that would be my name.


Upon leaving one of the mom/women functions of which he was my guest (okay…tagalong),

“I’m glad that’s over.”


“I don’t like those ladies.”

“Why would you say that? They’re all very nice”

“They all talk too much.”

Poor kid. He might as well get used to it young! I guess I’m just breaking him in for his future wife. She can thank me later.




After complying with his request to “sit by me”, I comment at the gas he passed on me, “JACK!!!”

“That’s gross.” he giggle replies about himself.

“That IS gross. Don’t do that.”

“How many gross?” he ponders.

“What?” I ask.

“ALOT of grosses” he proudly summizes.



“Why are our faces white?”

“What?” I ask while sitting at the computer.

He grabs mine and repeats, “Why are our faces white?”

He was wondering why people have different color skin. Being four, he endures my mini-lectures in stride, gleaning very little. I thought about enlightening him on world regions, ancestry, genetics, melanin that is often increased in the skin of people living in areas of intense ultra-violet rays. Then I looked at him and chose to go it simple,

“People might have different color skin on the outside, but they are the same on the inside”



What can a mom do, but sit back and enjoy life through the eyes of a toddler. The stress is low and conversation plenty.

Not so much with my tween/teens. I crave conversation with the older ones. Real, two-sided exchanges. I jump on any smile or lighthearted comment, often to the point of annoyance (“Maawwmmm!!!). I try to remember the days when they were little and chatted away in their car seats. I remind myself to be thankful for carpool and forced time together as I hope for a semblance of conversation. Then I do my best to listen rather than lecture. I try… not always very well.

Simple is probably best for them like it is for Jack.

Thanks for walking the road with me.



Last Jack comment:

“What’s that on the window?” (We’re back in the car.)

“Huh?” I ask.

“What are those dots?”


“Yeah, those drip things.”

“Oh, Honey … that’s rain.”

Needless to say, it’s been awhile. The rain might have lasted less than five minutes and only filled a thimble, but beggars can’t be choosers! We were thrilled.

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