More than once as my kids were growing up, they’d spill private information to friends that I wish they hadn’t. Probably gave those friends a good laugh—and something to talk about.
For example, maybe a friend was visiting, and out of the blue, my son might ask something horrific like, "Do you sleep in your underwear?"
The friend might laugh and ask, "Why are you asking me that?"
Answer: "Well, my dad does."
(Just for clarification sake, I hardly ever slept my underwear. But, I lived in Indonesia for 26 years where it can get downright sultry at night, and if you were sleeping in Indonesia without air conditioning like I did, you’d probably have slept some nights in your underwear, too!)
A more likely reveal would be something like, “My dad is the one who eats all the cookies in the house.” To which my friends would have laughed and said, “But he’s skinny and can afford to.” To which my kids would have said, “But he’s OCD about the scale. He weighs himself all the time.” Then, perhaps, my friends would have really had something to snicker about.
This weekend was photo time for the catering business I’m starting. To take pictures, I had to bake several recipes. Pies, cakes, muffins, cookies. But, with my two oldest kids away from home and my youngest moving to Seattle on Saturday, there was no way we were going to be able to eat everything I made (I can no longer afford to eat them all). So, we did what good neighbors do—we brought our unwanted food to a few neighbors. At least this unwanted food was high quality. That’s what we tell ourselves, anyway.
One family has young elementary school children whom we adore. So, I gave them what I knew were their favorite cookies, along with a couple of other yummy treats.
The following day, the mother came by and thanked us for the delicious treats. Half an hour later, her kids came walking home from school, accompanied by a teenage cousin. I was painting the fence outside, and as they passed by, I asked them how they liked the treats.
“My mom won’t let us have any,” the younger said sadly. “She says they’re for the lady downstairs.”
Now, I don’t know if the mom didn’t like the treats and therefore was giving them away, or if she wanted to limit her kids’ intake of sweets (perfectly understandable), or if she and her husband were secretly hoarding them for themselves. Maybe there’s another explanation. It doesn’t matter to me, nor does it bother me that the two stories seem to be at odds. But, I’m clearly amused. Kids can reveal the most inconvenient truths.
For example, maybe a friend was visiting, and out of the blue, my son might ask something horrific like, "Do you sleep in your underwear?"
The friend might laugh and ask, "Why are you asking me that?"
Answer: "Well, my dad does."
(Just for clarification sake, I hardly ever slept my underwear. But, I lived in Indonesia for 26 years where it can get downright sultry at night, and if you were sleeping in Indonesia without air conditioning like I did, you’d probably have slept some nights in your underwear, too!)
A more likely reveal would be something like, “My dad is the one who eats all the cookies in the house.” To which my friends would have laughed and said, “But he’s skinny and can afford to.” To which my kids would have said, “But he’s OCD about the scale. He weighs himself all the time.” Then, perhaps, my friends would have really had something to snicker about.
This weekend was photo time for the catering business I’m starting. To take pictures, I had to bake several recipes. Pies, cakes, muffins, cookies. But, with my two oldest kids away from home and my youngest moving to Seattle on Saturday, there was no way we were going to be able to eat everything I made (I can no longer afford to eat them all). So, we did what good neighbors do—we brought our unwanted food to a few neighbors. At least this unwanted food was high quality. That’s what we tell ourselves, anyway.
One family has young elementary school children whom we adore. So, I gave them what I knew were their favorite cookies, along with a couple of other yummy treats.
The following day, the mother came by and thanked us for the delicious treats. Half an hour later, her kids came walking home from school, accompanied by a teenage cousin. I was painting the fence outside, and as they passed by, I asked them how they liked the treats.
“My mom won’t let us have any,” the younger said sadly. “She says they’re for the lady downstairs.”
Now, I don’t know if the mom didn’t like the treats and therefore was giving them away, or if she wanted to limit her kids’ intake of sweets (perfectly understandable), or if she and her husband were secretly hoarding them for themselves. Maybe there’s another explanation. It doesn’t matter to me, nor does it bother me that the two stories seem to be at odds. But, I’m clearly amused. Kids can reveal the most inconvenient truths.
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