That all-essential talk

My son and daughter walked into my room as I was peacefully reading a book.

"Hey mum, we want to ask you something?" said my daughter in a voice that invited no argument.

With a heavy heart, I placed the book down. There was never a moment of rest for the weary.

 "Both of you want to ask me something together?" It's a good thing the youngest is too young as yet to collaborate with the siblings. As it was, this was a tough panel.

"Yes," said my almost eighteen-year old daughter. "It's important and we want you to tell us the truth."

I sighed. "Ok. I'll tell you. I've dipped into your college fund and bought myself a nice pair of earrings. But don't tell daddy or he might stop my allowance."

"Mum!" My son shrieked. "Stop that."

"Oh! I am sorry. I thought we were telling the truth. Fine. Forget I said that."

My son looked at my daughter. She shook her head. "She is joking. You know mum, that isn't funny. You're a mother. You're supposed to set an example."

"Fine. Fine." I suppressed a smile. "Then I won't tell you that I'm a wanted criminal in ten countries and that is the reason why our list of countries to travel to is so severely limited."

"Mum," my son screeched again. "Stop it."

My daughter, older, and more used to my diversion tactics, raised her hand. "We've a specific question in mind."

Gone were the days when I could distract and confuse them from the truth. "Fine. Go ahead," I huffed.

"Are you religious? We ask because most of the mums of our friends force them to pray and do stuff whereas you tell us to follow our hearts and be good."

"Hey, I am an open-minded and empowering mother. Give credit where it is due."

My daughter raised an eyebrow. "Other people might think that you're being open minded and empowering, but you also don't allow us to sleep late. I am still asked to come back home before 8PM so we know it cannot be that."

"Yeah, and don't forget, she never gives enough money for us to chill with our friends," my son added.

"You're still too young to chill with your friends," my daughter replied. "I'd to wait till I was fifteen."

"But…"

My daughter stopped him with a look. Really. She was like a dog with a bone. It reminded me of someone. Hmm. All characteristics I found annoying were usually associated with my husband, so I mentally dropped it in his basket.

"Tell us the truth, mother," demanded my daughter.

Oh, mother? I knew she was serious when she called me that. I knew that this day would come, but I didn't know it would sneak up on me so quietly.

Oh, how the time flew with kids. There was a time when they asked me how to switch on the TV and now, I was suddenly responsible for questions that might impact their very soul.

This was a tricky one.

"You know Sheldon's character in Big Bang Theory. The first day when he met Amy, his future girlfriend, she told him that 'the only reason she was here for the date was because she had a deal with her mother that she would date once a year.'

So, Sheldon told her that 'he had a deal with his mother that he would go to church once a year.' And you know what, Amy said?"

My son put his hand on his forehead. "Why do we bother?"

"Shush," said my daughter who had not seen the whole show with me twice as my son had and was hence deprived of the wisdom it imparted.

"She said that she doesn't object to the concept of a deity, but she is baffled by the notion of one who takes attendance. Something like that…I can't remember the exact words. Maybe I should look it up." I mused. 

"No," they both said in unison. 

"Ok. Then you get it, right?" I looked at them in an expectant manner. Both of them look exasperated and not at all enlightened.

"And what is the point of telling us this except that maybe we should keep an eye on how much Netflix you are watching?" said my daughter.

I'd given birth to them. It was my duty to be kind and patient.

"If you were a superhero with powers of creation and destruction, would you really keep a tally on how many times every single one of your worshippers prayed or whether they sat or stood right when they were praying. I mean…that superhero is certainly not going on the cover of a magazine, much less a movie."

My kids looked at each other. Boy! That was a tough one but I'd expended my wisdom of the day and my job was done. My daughter made a gesture and my son followed her lead out of the room.

"Is she crazy?" my son whispered.

"She may be getting there. Dibs on not living with her when she is completely senile," said my daughter.

"Oh man. You can't call dibs on that. It's not fair." They bickered their way out of my earshot.

Out of the mouth of babes!