the beauty of being a parent is you can pretend the things your children tell you will come to pass.

yesterday after art class wingman and i took our picnic lunch to the nearby park.

and in this neck of the woods where there really is no spring, just a series of overcast, chilly and sometimes windy days punctuated by the occasional sunny day, this consists of being optimistic about the prospect of picnicking in the park but really just eating lunch in the car because it's too cold outside.

again.

it was just the two of us with the duke off at the church in the middle of nowhere taking his test.

there were some teenagers on skateboards going through the parking lot in a noisy bunch.

wingman was watching them. he's fascinated by teenagers. but not in the way you think.

he's fascinated by teenagers in the way that old people are "fascinated" by "kids these days!"

"mama, i just can't understand why teenagers are always not behaving"

"well, it's not that they're not behaving, it's that they're generally not hanging out with their parents in public. so if their parents aren't around to remind them about their manners and behaving, they're not going to always do it"

"but they're big! they should know without their mothers telling them!"

"teenagers are really just big kids. they're still learning. just like you"

"well, when i'm a teenager i'm always going to hang out with you AND i'm going to behave"

cut. print. laminate. put in wallet. save for seven years. pull out when necessary.

he's munching his sandwich and staring at them. then he mutters and shakes his head

"they're not even wearing helmets"

x.