Here I am with my brood, taken by Hal on what would be one of the last family picnics before puberty struck.
You can probably figure out the dynamics of this photo--the Beattle-inspired thirteen-year old on the left, his next- in- line brother copying him until we get to Batman on the right. I had to negotiate the cape and mask off him when he started kindergarten--until then, from his diaper days he wore a mask and cape.
We had a lot of responsibility and no rule books to guide us. Dr. Spock was our only source and there wasn't the Internet to browse through to find our answers.
We used (and washed incessantly) cloth diapers and all meals were made from scratch.
My peer group was also the first to cope with the start of the drug revolution. Lucky us.
The good news is that back then I was too busy to realize that every incorrect move I made, every I-wish-I-hadn't- word I spoke, would be stored away in the juvenile memory bank and trotted out at a moment convenient to the complainer.
The even better news is that I can sit by happily watching my grandkids filing away their parent fodder for another time.
That's my version of the circle of life.
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