There are times when I miss having little kids at home. I hate to admit just how much I loved being a mom of little kids. It was great when they depended
on me to guide, counsel or chastise. When they needed me to reassure them everything was going to be okay, when they needed a friend, a hot fudge sundae or just a hug from mom. The good ol' days.
Now, my children are adults.
Grown children are an entirely different story – you'd be surprised just how much they react and respond to things just like their younger selves, only now they have to 'prove' they're adult enough to handle what life throws at th
em. It's funny, most of the time.
I can almost predict what each child – er, excuse me, each adult child will do when presented with something they don't have a ready answer to.
Jane, my oldest, will complain, make wise cracks and solve the problem. My middle son will look to his big sister for guidance before making a decision, and the youngest … well, let's just say the youngest still has difficulty making the right choices.
Still, I'm grateful that they're all relatively happy, and still trying to live their lives to the fullest. What more can a mom ask for? Except grandchildren!