Bunker Mulligan "Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry." ~Mark Twain

Watching the local news with Dad, and they have a report on a highway wreck where several children were injured or killed. One was two years old. In the film, a police officer is taking notes for his report, leaning into the damaged car. He is partially obscured by someone, but those broad shoulders and large upper arms are unmistakable–my son.

Next, interview with Officer Matt: “Parents need to take responsibility for their children’s safety in the car. Kids can’t think for themselves in regards to their need to determine the best way to secure themselves in a car seat when they are this young.” Dimples and all, very professional. Needs a haircut.

I am often amazed at how professional my children are in their work. I shouldn’t be, because responsibility is something I worked hard to teach them growing up. I didn’t praise them effusively, or without warrant. They knew from Dad exactly how they had performed. When I gave them criticism, they understood the intent, and knew why I dealt with them in the way I did. They didn’t always like it. But they also appreciated praise when it came because they knew I was sincere and not just trying to make them feel good. I did that, too–when they really needed it. They understood the difference.

But they are also my very good friends. I think we have a pretty good bond–between all of us.

I’m proud of all my kids. But you knew that, didn’t you?