One dark night my four-year-old brother, Darren, watched a plane moving across a clear sky. As it disappeared, he heaved a relieved sigh and said: “Whew! I'm sure never gonna be a pilot!” Surprised, Mom asked, “Why not?” “Do you realize,” Darren replied wisely, “how hard it would be to steer around all those stars?”

My five-year-old daughter, Madeline, informed me that I wouldn't have to clean anything up on Mother's Day, then paused. I expected her to say she would clean up for me. Instead, she added, “You can clean it all up the next day!”

My husband and I encourage our three children to try new foods, and like most kids, they resist. On a recent visit to Grandma's house, I asked each of them to sample one of her pickled beets. Only nine-year-old Andrew was willing to try them. After he'd managed a tentative nibble, Grandma asked, “So, how is it?” Andrew diplomatically replied, “It would be good, Grandma, if I liked it

One afternoon my two daughters were fighting over a toy when I heard a piercing scream. “Mom!” yelled three-year-old Nicole, “Rebecca hurt her hand!” I hurried over and asked where she had hurt it. “In my mouth,” stated Nicole.

Ricky was ten when my husband and I were expecting our fifth child. We called a family conference, and encouraged the kids to voice their opinions about the new addition. Our daughter hoped for a sister, while two of the boys wished for another sparring partner. Ricky, though, had one concern: “Now how are we going to share a dozen doughnuts?”

As a minister in Owen Sound, I extend a special invitation to children on Easter Sunday to celebrate the Resurrection. My sister and her two children attended, and as the offering plate came past my nephew, he turned to his mother and loudly inquired, “Are we paying to get in or out?”

I had taken my country upbringing for granted until I realized how differently my children, with their town perspectives, saw things. On a rural car trip last spring, the familiar fragrance of horse manure from the surrounding fields was especially noticeable. Our three-year-old paused as she climbed out of the van, then remarked, “It smells like… like a parade.”

My ten-year-old son phoned me at work to ask me to take him to a store when I got home. “Which store?” I asked. “Any store.” “What do you want to buy?” “It's a surprise,” he told me. It took a few more questions before he explained that his fortune cookie the night before predicted, “There will be a surprise in store for you.”

Chelsea, my four-year-old daughter, and I attended the Mother's Day service at our church. During the service, members paid tribute to their mothers, and one woman described hers as the best mother in the world. I noticed Chelsea crying and asked her what was wrong. “Mommy,” she sniffled, “she doesn't have the best mother in the world. I do!”

Corey, my seven-year-old son, asked me why people celebrate Christmas. Wanting him to know there are many religions, I began to explain that some people do not have Christmas. "I know," he interrupted me, and in a world-weary tone stated, "I know. Some people celebrate Harmonica."