I fervently wished there was someone with more experience-or, better yet, a degree in child psychology-who I could consult before responding. Thankfully, my mouth was full of chicken, which gave me a few panicked seconds to conjure the kind of response that could possibly convey the feelings of overwhelming love, worry and protectiveness rushing over me.
It was one of those epic parenting moments the handbook definitely does not cover. He took a bite of chicken and announced, in his matter-of-fact way, “I hope you know I’m gay.” That was the moment our seven-year-old son came out. With these two, it’s always a bit of a one-sided Ping-Pong match: I lob a question over the net, and they spike incredibly succinct answers right past me.Īfter a few such attempts, I just gave up. My husband, my son and I were sitting around the dining room table and, like usual, I was trying my hardest to draw out some juicy details about their day. The best example-to date, at least-happened on a regular weekday evening. And yet, despite years of experience, I’m still floored by my quiet, thoughtful and incredibly self-possessed son. Being a parent is an exercise in expecting the unexpected.