I said this in a recent post, An Open Letter to My (almost) Grown Kids. Seems like a no-brainer, but somehow, between the time they exit our stretched out, forever-changed-bodies, until the time they begin to actually look and act like adults themselves, this message is entirely lost in translation. The fact is: our kids think we are their parents, always were their parents and there was nothing before. It’s not hard to see why. We live our lives in a complex dance in which we always lead, and they follow. Until they don’t, follow. We are not their friends, but their mentors and guardians, their caregivers, their cheerleaders, their parents.