I wrote and recorded another essay for my local NPR station. It aired this morning. A few minutes prior I got on line to stream it so the kids could hear, but my computer was being cantankerous and would have nothing to do with this plan. Having wasted too much time wrestling with it, I ushered the kids out the door to sit in the car with me to listen instead. In various stages of readiness for school, they brought bowls of oatmeal and cups of chai (yes, I believe in establishing their caffeine addictions early)with them and we piled into my vehicle.
After establishing who was "riding" shotgun (remember, we weren't actually driving anywhere, and yet, this is a big deal chez moi...because whoever rides shotgun gets to "control" the radio...which, of course, was moot today since we were listening to my station and mine only...but irrelevant because we fight the shotgun battle now as a matter of pride and course). My son won, hopped in and immediately buckled himself in. I pointed out that unless we were about to be struck by an asteroid as we sat in the driveway the seatbelt was not going to do him any good at all, and even then, he was probably doomed. (Though mad props to him AND his mommy for establishing what is clearly an unconscious good habit!)
As we heard my voice, both children drew a collective breath and held it. They're always afraid that I'm going to MENTION THEM BY NAME somehow. To my daughter's great relief, it was my son who was the focus of today's essay. I pointed out that it was highly unlikely that any of his peer group was listening to NPR at 7:35 a.m. and if it turned out that they were, I'd be pleased to make the acquaintance of any such erudite young tweenager. Thankfully, the subject matter was acceptable to him, and we are still on speaking terms.
I appreciate their unease when they know they are routinely the sources of my musings, but hey, that's the price they pay for living with me, and eating my food etc. They don't know it yet, but the tables will turn later on, and I will be a wellspring of material for them as they begin the inevitable self-reflection that plagues us all in middle age. I'm sure they'll give as good as they got.
As I left the house later my daughter called out to me: "Hey Mom, I heard this really cool essay on the radio this morning, you should check it out!" Awwwwwww.