Once I entered middle age, I did myself the favor of dropping my high expectations. For every situation, I imagine the worst possible outcome, and the actual one is almost always better in comparison. When someone promises to do something, I brace myself for disappointment, and on occasion, I’m pleasantly surprised.

I haven’t schooled my children on this way of thinking yet, because they’re at that golden age where they expect the best out of their lives and the people in it. Watching it is bittersweet.

This morning, I held Bonnie, our Russian tortoise, up to my mouth, said, “Care for a Bonnieburger?” and took an imaginary bite out of her butt.

Anna watched, then replied, “She’s going to poop in your mouth.”

Real-life training is one of the most difficult parts of parenting. It’s always easier during those rare moments when they train themselves.

Anna (sighing at the scorched savanna of our backyard): “I wish we had a pool.”

Me: “You know what’s more valuable than a pool? Gratitude. You should be grateful that you are healthy with a big yard to play in with frogs hopping around in a pond. You have a swing set and a driveway with a basketball hoop and a brother and sister and a dog who’s begging for a walk. Rather than thinking of all the things you wish you had, you should focus on the things you do have.”

Anna: “Can we start that after we get a pool?”