I have mentioned before that my 75 year old mother has a tendency to make slight errors in her pronunciation of certain words.

Usually her terminology is good for a chuckle, but last night at dinner she had me completely stumped when she asked, “Diane, have you seen that HBO movie I told you about yet? The one about that acoustic girl.”

I stared blankly. She continued, “Temple something…”

“Temple Grandin?”

She replied, “Yes! That’s it.”

“Mom, I think you meant to say autistic.”

Though I suppose it’s entirely possible that Temple played a mean guitar.

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On Wednesday night my husband and I picked up our 11 year old daughter from track practice.

She excitedly jumped into the back seat, began to buckle herself and without a hint of a greeting blurted out, “Guess what?”

I turned to look at her with her red face and hair falling from her ponytail, “What?” I asked.

“I ran in a 400 meter race against three boys from my class and I came in second. The winner only beat me by two seconds!”

“Wow, honey! That’s great!”

“Yeah. I ran pretty hard and I sprinted really fast at the end…and when it was over I threw up a little bit.”

I don’t know if I have ever been more proud.

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Ever since I was a little girl, I have been scared of cats. As a child, when my next-door neighbor went on vacation she would pay me to open and shut her drapes, empty the litter box and feed her cat. You can probably tell I am old and this was a long time ago because I just used the word drapes.

That cat’s name was Fluffy and he used to meet me at the door standing on his hind legs, hissing and baring his teeth. Fluffy was a jerk.

My husband grew up with a cat and my kids are constantly asking if we can get one. Never mind that we have two dogs and I could create something cat-like out of our dust bunnies. But, no! As far as us getting one, let’s just say that pigs would need to be flying and a fat lady would have to be singing. Also, the devil would be very cold.

But, apparently my son really wants a cat, because when we were walking around the pet store the other day he was lamenting the fact that we don’t have one.

I said, “I’m sorry, buddy, but I just don’t like cats. I will never have one.”

He thought about that as we approached the register then said, “Oh well. Maybe we can get a cat when you die.”

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My children like to talk. A lot. We have a video of my daughter telling a story when she was three and she doesn’t finish before the tape ran out…after 30 minutes.

Though, at times, it can drive me crazy, I’m glad my kids talk to me. Our conversations have opened the doors to discussions that (hopefully) let my children know that I’ll always be honest with them. If they ask me something, I do my best to give them a truthful, accurate answer.

Being that kids are naturally curious about the human body, this means that some of the things we’ve talked about would make typical parents squirm. That’s right, I’m talking about ex-say. (Ha! Find me now, spammers!) I have always spoken openly about ex-say because we’re all human and it’s a topic that everyone has to deal with at one time or another. God gave us noses to smell and He gave us other parts for other things.

I discuss these things with them because I believe that knowledge is power. I want my kids to be armed and ready to make informed decisions…when they are adults and have finished college and are married to someone who loves and respects them and tells them the sun rises and sets with their smile.

Depending on the age at which they have asked questions, I have had to use language that my children will understand. Which may have backfired on me when my son once told a complete stranger that he had babies in his bawlz.

But, as it turns out, I may have confused my daughter as well. A couple of years ago, when I first explained how babies are conceived, I apparently messed things up quite a bit.

Let’s just say that the other night she told me that she walked away from that conversation thinking that a women had to chew up the man’s parts…as if sitting down to a steak dinner…in order to have a baby.

I’m glad we cleared that up before she meets her future husband.

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