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After explaining to my son I was too busy to make him a sandwich for afternoon tea recently, he reluctantly went about making his own.
"Is this ham okay to eat?" he asked. I checked the use by date.
"Sure is."
He then went on to ask me if each individual item was still good, including the salad, which I assessed by looking at it, identifying it was fine and telling him so. And then.
"How much mayonnaise should I put on?" my son asked. He's 15.
My mouth opened, about to explain that it depends on personal taste, when I closed it again. Despite saying 'no' to making the sandwich, I was now giving a play-by-play description of how to do it. And was literally about to tell him how much mayonnaise to put on HIS OWN sandwich.
I was pondering this later that evening when my 10-year-old daughter walked down from her shower, wrapped in a towel.
"I need pyjamas," she beamed.
Without a second thought, I handed her the neatly folded PJs I'd already pulled out of her drawer, and reminded her to brush her teeth, and hair. As I did so, a third child — also a teen — walked down stairs, bellowing: "Mum, where are my AirPods?"
"You mean the ones that were in your ears when you walked upstairs half an hour ago?"
"Yes."
In that moment, I made a mental note of my instinct to walk up the stairs and help him find them; find the AirPods that were no doubt on his bed, where he was last using them.
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