My husband and I talk openly in our house about our finances, and, so, little ears are always listening. Our discussions are generally that our bills need to be paid or that we’re paying out more than we’re bringing in, at least some months.

We’re not destitute, and we haven’t gotten down to “our last $5,” a story my mom used to tell us kids.

Both my parents lived during the depression, so they had plenty of stories to tell. And, although they lived comfortably when I was a child, they were never ones to spend hard-earned money on needless luxuries. Up until my teen years, I thought we were about to go broke, since they always talked about not knowing if they were going to have enough money to get by. My mom would clip coupons and shop three different grocery stores in town just to get the best deals. They rarely bought new clothes. They made a garden. They didn’t recycle, because they would reuse containers and bags, instead.

They were smart. I mistook it for being nearly poor.

So, when my 11-year-old daughter hears my husband and I talk about money, she has a unique way of processing the situation. She has declared we are never to go out to eat again. (We did last night.) And, instead of spending money on school-sponsored trips (for her sister), we should save that money.

And, sometimes, when she’s been thinking just a little too much, she pops out the question: “Momma, are we going to be hobos?” or “Momma, am I going to be a hobo?”

I envision an older man in tattered clothes hopping in a railcar to travel across the country or maybe an “Andy Griffith” episode about a hobo who talked Opie and his pals into being like Robin Hood and robbing from the rich to give to the poor (in this case, the hobo).

Still, my daughter hasn’t totally rejected the possibilities of such an occupation. Sometimes, when she’s worrying about school or is stressed by something kids stress about, she’ll get to thinking about a life of no responsibilities and declares, “I wish I were a hobo!”

– Linda Lynn

LLYNN@OPUBCO.COM

We’ve talked about his school, his friends, his fears, his toys, how much we loved each other — googleplex plus googleplex times infinity plus 180 or so – and, most recently the latest superpowers that he acquired from a friend, including his laser eyes, ability to spawn tornadoes and hands that could freeze anything they touched. Some days, all he wanted to do was clench his green blanket and suck his thumb, a relaxing end to a long day, but now, at age 5, he’s growing up and moving out of that stage.

So today, I’m sad, as I have been for the last several weeks: I dropped off and picked up my youngest son at the OPUBCO Child Development Center for the last time. Today was his last day, and after next week, the doors to the wonderful facility will close for good. The teachers and staff and aides are outstanding, and I hate to say good-bye to them and the happy place that’s done so much good for children through the years.

As families have found other places for their children to attend, it’s become more and more like a ghost town lately, but the teachers still there continue to be dedicated and committed to the well being of the remaining children.

I’ve loved the childcare center (thanks, OPUBCO, for running it all these years), but I’ve cherished even more this one-on-one time with my son, daily alone moments that are hard to grab with any of my children, since there are three of them and only one of me. As the youngest, he’s had even less of me than the others because I’m spread thinner, now single and working full time, which I didn’t do when the older two, now 8 and nearly 10, were his age.

So for now, that daily one-on-one time is over. I’m so thankful I had it and hope to figure out a way to carve out more of it with each of my children amid the daily busyness. Any ideas?

~ Lillie-Beth Brinkman (lbrinkman@opubco.com)

I know this, but it’s not something I think about every day. We have a lab already, and he’s a handful. 

So, this weekend while I was working at the newspaper to catch up on some tasks, Kaci passed by her daddy’s home computer (he works at The Oklahoman, too) and she saw an e-mail exchange between us.

In the subject line, my husband had typed: “bring home a bulldog”

My reply was ”Yes-sir.”

Kaci was ecstatic! Momma was bringing home her pug!

But sometimes children misunderstand what seems obvious to adults.

If you’ve ever been around a newspaper and heard the lingo, you would know a “bulldog” at The Oklahoman is an early edition of the Sunday paper that customers can buy on Saturdays. Some readers like to read the stories or clip their coupons and see the ads early. My husband wanted to preview his Outdoors page.

But Kaci knew she was getting a puppy.

Alas, when I came home empty-handed, Kaci was disappointed.

It reminded me of when I was little and I had spyed a camera box in the top of my mom’s closet. I just knew I was getting a camera for Christmas.

The gifts were opened, and no camera!

My mom then explained the box was from her old camera.

Yes, I was disappointed, too. … Almost 40 years later, like mother, like daughter.

–Linda Lynn

llynn@opubco.com

This week, Katie, my 14-year-old, asked if she and a friend could be dropped at the mall on a Friday evening to see a movie. This is not the first time this discussion has occurred at our house. And, once before, my husband did let her see a movie with friends without supervision, but it was during the day.

The first time I let Katie even walk the mall alone with friends was at her 14th birthday party. But I stayed and pushed her little brother around in a stroller while they “did their own thing.”

Lenore Skenazy has received support and flack for letting her young son ride a subway by himself. She is the author of “Free-Range Kids.”  

Skenazy encourages parents to let their children roam and experience new things by themselves, empowering them to be individuals and not live in fear.

I admit this is just the opposite of how I continue to raise my children. I know I’m “too” protective by some standards. Yes. I used to roam all over our 200-acre farm when I was younger. I would go fishing and exploring by myself. And, although it wasn’t my choice, at 14 years old I walked the streets of Washington, D.C., when I was separated from my Close Up tour group. The next day, about five of us (without adults) rode the subway and toured our nation’s well-known monuments and museums.

I loved the experience. 

So, why do I try so hard to shelter my children from their own adventures?

I live in fear of ”what if.” I read the newspaper. I watch the news shows. And I’m appalled and scared by what might could happen.

Is there maybe a happy medium? But what would that be?

Share with me your stories of letting your children experience independence. Do you let them walk alone to school, the grocery store or snowcone shack? What are your limits on your children’s independence?

– Linda Lynn

llynn@opubco.com

The oldest has researched on the Internet. The youngest has had deep discussions with classmates.  Some of the comments they’ve made at home have been “very interesting.” Their father and I have explained that you can’t believe everything you read on the Internet, and sometimes people make incorrect statements about candidates.

But, overall, I’ve been impressed. I’m very proud to hear them talk about current events and show an interest in our nation’s future.

I remember a ride on a dirt road, sitting beside my dad in our pickup. As he drove past the peanut fields, I asked him, “Daddy, what does impeachment mean?”

I had spent many an hour watching Watergate hearings on TV. Yet, in my mind, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what the politicians’ discussions had to do with PEACHES!

I’m sure my daughters’ newfound interest in politics is influenced by several things: TV news reports, their parents’ conversations, friends’ comments and school discussions. Katie, who is in a middle school yearbook class, has been assisting her classmates with short, informational election videos called “The Election Minute.”

I think Katie and Kaci’s interests in the presidential election have caused me to be more thoughtful about the candidates, their values, their goals if they become president. I still think what you read and hear can be confusing, but this national event has spurred some amusing as well as thought-provoking conversations in our home. — Linda Lynn

Wednesday’s accident involving a 23-month-old toddler who died in Tulsa after a television fell from a dresser and crushed him is a tragedy.

Before my son was born, I would glance at those type of stories and continue reading without thinking twice about what I had read.

Now, stories about the death of babies and toddlers really tie my stomach in knots. I wonder how I would react, what I would do if I were that situation or what I could do to prevent a similar situation.

After reading about Wednesday’s accident in Tulsa, I wondered if the two televisions in my house were properly and safely tethered. They weren’t, so I’ll have a home improvement project to tackle this weekend.

What are other simple and effective ways a home could be child-proofed? Are there preventative measures that must be done, but may not be easily remembered?

Leave a comment below to share with others.

— Brian Sargent

bsargent@oklahoman.com

My son is in a class at the zoo.  It meets once a month, and it is specific to his age.  All the children in the class are 2 years old.  The class is terrific and I highly recommend it to anyone.  They have different age groups so any child can sign up.  The cost is $10-$12 per class.  In his class, they do learning activities, look at exhibits, do crafts and read stories. 

On Saturday, we were in the craft portion of the class.  All the kids sit at tables and the parents are right there with them.  My son takes a spot next to a little blond girl.  I didn’t notice at first, but she apparently suffers from a skin disorder, maybe psoriasis or something along those lines.  Her skin was red and blotchy and looked to be peeling. But I didn’t think twice about it and so we started working on the craft. 

About 5 minutes into it, my son looks over at her, points to her arm and lets out a huge “EWWWWW!!!” complete with scrunched-up nose and big grin.  I think my heart stopped.  I could feel her parents’ eyes on me and I immediately turned red. I was mortified. I didn’t know what to do.  I went on instinct and tried to cover as best as I could by saying “yes, Hunter, ewww,  you got glue on your hands!”

What do we do in a situation like that?  I couldn’t punish him – after all, he is only two.  If I tried to talk to him about it afterward, he would have long forgotten about what I was even referring to. 

Please, fellow parents, tell me how you would handle that and if you have had a similar situation happen to you.  I really need some advice on this because I have a sneaky suspicion this won’t be the last time!

~Erica Smith

esmith@oklahoman.com