Today the weather is gorgeous, and my kids decided to lay out on the deck. The cushions for the deck furniture are stored in a porch off the living room, and have been neglected all winter. My son, age 20, 6 ft 2 inches, and my 19-year-old daughter both wanted someone to get the cushions for them because there was a bug on the door.
When I was young I always wanted someone to kill the scary bugs I encountered. And they did. Then, as a young mother, I felt obligated to protect my family from the horrible bugs no matter how much it made me cringe. Now I'm 54, and bugs seem like the smallest of life's problems; I can squish them without fear (though usually I capture them and let them go outside).
As I got the cushions out, I had to smile; my kids will always be my kids, no matter how old or big, and apparently I will always feel the urge to help them and protect them from the scary things--even bugs. I guess that means I'm a grownup.
Carol's Favorite Music Playlist
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