I was trudging through the snow in the hardland of the winter spring early Easter morning and some of the black thoughts of life, death, the universe, and the precession of the generations that used to plague me all last spring were trying to weasel their way into my consciousness. I managed to pretty well banish them by remembering that this has been, if not a better year than last, at least a calmer one. Knock on wood BIG TIME! And I use the word “year” loosely.

Then I remembered about all our children out there making their way in the world without somebody around to nag them and poke into their lives. “Be careful.” “Put your helmet on.” “Don’t talk to any strangers.” “Call me when you get there.” “Did you get that homework assignment done?” Etc., etc., etc., I won’t say ad nauseam this time. A little chill went up my spine. I forced it out of my system and trudged on. Until later that day when I read Karen’s blahg entry. (Uh, I mean the April 8 one, although her April 9 entry is pretty interesting too.)

Kids, be careful. No matter how good a driver you are, you never know when some total idjit is going to be hurtling toward you at top speed going the wrong way down the freeway. I mean that both literally and metaphorically. We moominmamas miss the days when we could just saddle up pink sleds horses to rescue cute snowballs from the schoolyard and make everything be all better. We love you. That’s why we can be such awful nags and busybodies.

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