After this, we'll have the talk about the birds and the bees, and about not leaving your bike outside in the rain

Train of thought: I hate snow in April. Especially eight inches of it; or whatever amount we're unreasonably up to now. I wanted our kitchen project to be done by now. We even got a sander and everything. We've got everything we need. We have new shiny handles. But we can't use them yet, because the doors to all the cabinets are standing up in neat piles in the dining room.

"It looks so trashy -- so junky -- in here."

Ah, junky. A word with special meaning. Gather 'round, children.

What: Life lesson learned from Mom.
Where: Taylor Mill, Ky.
When: 1987-88.

Details: Erin and her younger brother Derrick are playing "Barbies and GI Joes" in the garage (Barbie had a thing for smaller, machine-gun wielding men back in my day). GI Joe was about to drive Barbie's Corvette down a makeshift ramp we'd created.

"Give me that. It's mine," I said, or something to that nature. I'm sure I said "please" and "thank you." "Drive YOUR Jeep."

"No, it's too junky," my brother said of the Jeep, which was kinda junky looking, as GI Joe never could take care of his toys.

"And you know what else is junky?" asked my mom, suddenly appearing for this after-school special moment, with the "The More You Know" music playing in the background. "People who do drugs."

I think we stared at her, dolls suspended in mid-air.

And Mom probably went back in the house, calmly grabbed a pencil from the drawer and her Mom Notebook from on top of the fridge and neatly wrote "Talk to kids about drugs -- DONE."

That's a life lesson for ya.