WILL ROGERS It’s surprising how much you can learn when three teenagers are hanging around the house eying your car keys. For instance, I learn humility whenever my daughter says, “Why did you get a haircut? Nothings happening up there.” I learn self-control whenever I can’t find the remote control. Or when my son informs me that eighteen friends are coming to watch three movies in fifteen minutes and that they haven’t eaten in four days. I learn about history from one of my sons, whose room looks like Pompeii. I learn diplomacy when shopping with my daughter, something I have been suckered into only twice. (I would like to tell you I also learn patience while shopping with her, but that is still a ways off.) I learn that teenagers are too old to do things kids do and too young to act like adults. So they do things no one else would dare. And I learn that times have changed. When I was a teenager, boys chased the girls. I remember the day in tenth grade when a blonde named Ramona moved in next door, and I made it my life verse to love my neighbor as myself.
