I won’t pretend to be the expert in raising teenagers. My husband would tell you I’m far from it, actually. But I think I may redeem myself with my son, who is now five years old.

We were driving through the Lowe’s parking lot in Fayetteville on Sunday afternoon, and there were a few teenaged boys hanging around by their pre-fab sheds, looking like they were up to no good. Rick and I commented that they were on their way to getting themselves in trouble. As we went on through the lot, Griffin piped up “where is their mother?”

I almost had to pull the car over I was laughing so hard.