Zebras?

I’m nearly certain, based on what friends have shared, that once the kids begin to drive themselves I will miss out on the observations, comments and questions that one or the other offers up when it’s least expected.

As they’ve grown, our conversations have become more complex, philosophical, and even painful to a mom’s heart. Yet I know that the best way I can be there for them is to just listen and wait for them to begin asking questions. When they do, I answer them in the most honest way I can.

The ‘Honesty is Best Policy’ can be uncomfortable or squeamish for me, especially when the topic turns to sex, relationships and other likewise more adult topics, but I answer them as best I can. Nearly every such chat ends with me asking if I’ve answered all of their questions, or if they feel better. Most times, they respond with a hug and a skip in their step.

Nearly every time they’ve had an issue, the convo starts with tears and ends in laughter as I share one of my applicable yet embarrassing stories.

But not all conversations are heavy. Some, well some I just don’t know what to think of.

Like the one day we were heading home after running errands and JB commented “Anytime I see a package that is black, white, and sometimes brown, I think it’s a Zebra turd.”

Oh, my.

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