Parenting Children is an amazing journey. And like any journey that lasts more than three days, there are times when the road may be obscured by fog. On days when I wake up with thick, low-hanging fog before my eyes, the day 40 of summer in San Francisco kind of fog, I know what to do. I call up my Inner Comic.
Like many performers, she is often sleeping in. I don't wake her. No need for two grouchy perspectives.
I simply suggest that during the day, she alert me to funny or unusual ways of looking at life. She never fails to point out a hilarious conversation on the bus, Nature's delightful wonders, or a fresh way to view myself. Once I'm laughing at myself, I know I've made it through the fog.
Like many performers, she is often sleeping in. I don't wake her. No need for two grouchy perspectives.
I simply suggest that during the day, she alert me to funny or unusual ways of looking at life. She never fails to point out a hilarious conversation on the bus, Nature's delightful wonders, or a fresh way to view myself. Once I'm laughing at myself, I know I've made it through the fog.
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