People tell you that every one of your children is going to be different. They don’t tell you HOW MUCH different your kids can be from one another. They came from the same gene pools, the same womb, grew up in the same household, and it amazes me how my 6-year-old boy has a much older soul than his older brother.
I sometimes wonder whether it is true that the questions asked by my youngest child have never been asked by my first-born, or perhaps I simply forgot. I am often caught off guard by my youngest’s questions, especially those stemmed from acute, and sometimes elliptical, observations of people around us and life itself.
Earlier today he asked, “Mom, what does illegal mean?” “Hmm, it means against the law. Like it is against the law to steal.”
“On my birthday, when it is legal for me to drink, I am going to drink a beer.”
I laughed. “You do that.”
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