The day has come that my children are embarrassed by me, or I guess I should say that they are worried that I will disclose information that will embarrass them. I suppose I’ve earned it by sharing the day-to-day funny stories of antics they’ve found themselves to be a part of. So they have respectfully asked that I obtain expressed permission to share the details of said antics. It’s such a bummer because they do the funniest, most amazing things that I would love to share, and this request has most certainly interrupted my thought process.
I wish I could share the crazy things Ethan did when he woke up from surgery after having his tonsils removed.
I wish I could share Daniel’s concerns on his first day of co-op.
I wish I could share what Hannah worries about when she yawns.
I wish I could tell you all about Grace’s ideas concerning where kittens come from.
But alas, I cannot. I have to obtain consent…from my kids. I do love them so, and their opinions, worries, anxieties, so on and so forth matter to me. I don’t want them to be uncomfortable. I don’t want them to be mad at me over this. I don’t want them to clam up and not talk to me about important things out of fear that the whole world will find out the inner workings of their thoughts and concerns about life in general.