Two of our children had birthdays last week. Children doesn’t feel like the appropriate word for responsible, mature individuals out living productive lives way out from under any parental wings. (Heck, they don’t even live in the same state.)
Offspring sounds a bit clinical. Kids? I still have my stretch mark souvenirs, so I’ll stick with children. Big ones.
The thing is, they’re all grown up. No more concerns that they’ll be jumping off the roof, riding a skateboard pulled by a Doberman, or getting a hand stuck in a gum ball machine any longer. Nope, they’re out in the world making solid, intelligent decisions every day.
No need to worry about our kids once they’re grown. . . right?
My daughter-in-law recently sent back these pictures from Bermuda, where she and our son spent a few days.
That guy contemplating the bad decision looks suspiciously familiar.
“Don’t worry about a thing. . . ’cause every little thing gonna be alright.”
– Bob Marley
“There’s no point in being a grownup if you can’t be childish sometimes.”
– Dr. Who