A brief errand took me into the city with my three youngest children.
We had a wholesome audiobook to entertain us and the January roads were dry. Traffic wasn’t going to stop us from arriving at one of our favorite destinations:
Billboards flashed by and Jonny asked, “What’s Planned Parenthood?”
I was not expecting this. My mind raced with what they know already and what I was willing to say at 8:40 a.m. while weaving through rush hour.
I launched into benign definitions about organizations and what they do.
Then I clumsily ventured into a mini-sermon. Half of you would agree with my monologue and half wouldn’t, but Jonny seemed satisfied.
A selfish detour took us to Starbucks before anything else. I felt I deserved it.
After that, Trader Joe’s bags filled the car with goodies and we were on our way home.
Back on the highway that was decorated with billboards, Jonny piped up again.
“What’s Super 8?”
That one was easier.