The Kids

As I heard myself say, “When are the kids coming over?” I suddenly had a very strange thought. The kids…are all in their thirties. The kids…have kids. The kids finished college years ago. Two of the kids have Master’s degrees. The kids have traveled the world. They own their own homes…and I still call them the kids. "They’re not the kids any more are they?" my brain asked. Well…it was my heart that answered…"Yes they are"…they’re MY kids. And always will be. My oldest is a father now with two beautiful little girl kids of his own. But I can still remember the blond haired, blue eyed little boy who used to hold my hand and kiss me good night. He’s still my kid. My youngest son has a Master’s degree and lives in Chicago now. But once, at a three year old’s birthday party at Chucky Cheese, said costumed rodent scared the bejesus out of said three year old. I can still see the pizza and pop scattering in every direction as he scrambled across the table to get to the safety of Daddy’s arms. I’m still the Daddy. He’s still my kid. And my youngest kid…my daughter…a Mom to two little boys of her own. A teacher and a holder of a Master’s degree in Education. But there are times when I can still see the same little angel who used to fall asleep on my shoulder in that old rocking chair. She’s still my angel. She’s still my kid. So yeah…for as many years as I have left I guess I’ll always be asking, “When are the kids coming over?” because they’ll always be…my kids.