All my children

Ikuni, Gamer and I were watching TV the other evening. I got up to get a drink from the kitchen, and when I came back I must have sighed. Gamer observed, “Mom, when you sigh, you go ‘huh.’ When Ikuni sighs she goes ‘hee.’” I thought, that’s my boy. In one way or another, my kids have inherited my detail-oriented gene.

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Wordsmith and I continue to walk the 21-yr-old-in-the-house tightrope. One moment we navigate (successfully) as fellow adults. The next (unsuccessfully) as parent and child.

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I’d gotten Drummer from his work, then and as we sat in the car waiting to pick up Ikuni, we watched a group of pigeons. They circled in the air then landed on top of a brick building, rested for a minute, took off, circled then landed again. As they did this repeatedly, we chatted about their behavior and what it might mean. One thing led to another and we discussed life and choices and future plans. I’m going to miss our car conversations once Drummer finally gets his license.

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Example of my daughter’s current obsession with anything gothic: while driving home from the store, Ikuni and I were talking about our current anxieties and, to encourage herself, she said: “Think happy thoughts. Think vampires.”

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