We had dinner downtown at a place with community seating at picnic tables. Awesome burgers, but that's beside the point. While eating, we sat with two different families. Both were very pleasant. I enjoy humans in chance encounters---the perfect situation for a profoundly introverted person who really likes chatting sometimes. But that's also beside the point.

The first family had an only child who is in middle school. They had a bunch of questions for me about homeschooling. I am very happy to talk about homeschooling. I can talk about it for days. The problem is, I have teenagers now and I don't have anything bad to say. In our culture, if you can't trash, bemoan, or complain about your teenagers, you better not say anything at all. No one wants to hear from parents with happy teenagers. Seriously, it causes asses to pucker hard. And hot on the heels of ass puckering arrives suspicion. If your teenager is happy, there must be something profoundly wrong or at least profoundly weird going on at home. The irony of which is staggering. I encounter this dynamic over and over and over again. I have to learn to be quieter.

The second family had one adorable red headed 4 year old who is tall for his age. His "I Spy" book brought back lots of fond memories. His happy constant chatter, the way he used his hands, his unguarded friendliness, the way his shoe wouldn't stay on, all of him brought back fond memories of life with toddlers. At one point he turned from the table and draped himself across the iron railing that separates the seating area from downtown traffic. His mother responded instantly: "Sam! Turn around this minute! ......One. ........Two. .........." Sam never flinched, never wavered, and certainly did not turn around. My husband and I both noticed and both laughed inwardly. Girlfriend, you just bet the farm and lost. Never count if you won't go to Three.

Sam wasn't just testing the depth of his mother's empty soul. He was flirting with a younger baby standing in her mother's lap, waiting for a city bus. He yelled at her, "Hey Baby! You are a baby! Ha ha ha ha HA! Baby!" And that little girl just beamed at him, undiluted happiness. Her mother, meanwhile, smoked a cigarette in perfect unawareness. She looked truly burdened and I wished very badly there was some socially acceptable way for us to offer her a ride anywhere.