Dear My Future Children: Here's the Talk You'll Get About Drugs

Hey kids! Greetings from the past--the probably distant past. There's been a lot of talk lately among the other grownups at work about lying to their kids. Probably since it was recently the holidays and you know how people get all tore up about the ethics of Elf on the Shelf. Anyway, the conversation always wanders over into drugs and alcohol territory, and what they'll tell their kids when they ask what their parents did. And that's when your old ma gets to put on her smug face--a face you know well!

You see, your mom is thrilled that she finally has an advantage to being a turbo dorkasaurus all those years. I can still have the moral high ground and never have to worry about lying to you at all.
That's right, I did NOTHING. I swear on my National Honor Society pin I was the cleanest teen you've ever seen. I didn't drink until college and even then I didn't get drunk. I didn't smoke anything until I was practically old by your standards (25!). And I didn't turn out to be a square! I know you think I'm tragically uncool, but let me assure you independent sources have verified my coolness. I rock now. But back when I was your age I was a nerdbot whose idea of fun was driving around making movies with her friends and getting cappucinos at the Wawa late at night with the cops. We never did anything illegal except break a few minor traffic laws and it was still the funnest. So my hypocrisy vis-a-vis The Drugs is not an argument you'll get to have with me. Being my kids, though, you're scarily creative, so I'm sure you'll find something else to complain about.

And look, it's not like you're going to be sheltered from the world of adult recreation. You've already got a realistic, functional relationship with alcohol. Our unofficaial family whiffleball team is called the Irish Livers and mom always gets to take her "special water bottle" deep into center field because none of us are good at sports anyway. You'll know wine varietals before you can tie your shoes, and one of your first words was "reserve." By the time you're old enough for us to have this talk, you'll have plenty of experience around grownups who drink and don't get crazy.

I should note that, speaking of Irish Livers, you're welcome for that genetic advantage, should you decide to party in college. Best to keep it to yourself, though, and just laugh at your obliterated friends. I am sorry you're always the one holding their hair and carrying them home though.

And I'm not worried about the hard drugs, because after enough Take Your Child to Work Days and tagging-along-with-mom to concert broadcast nights you'll have seen people high on every conceivable substance. And you will have obviously gleaned, as you are my children, that people who are on stuff are jerks, and you will swear to never be That Guy because fingers crossed I raised you half right. I don't intend to lie to you about what's going on, even when it's within our own little family circle. "Mom, why was Uncle [idk, Jerry?] so weird all night?" "Well hon, he did a mountain of cocaine before he came over here and that's why he was a huge douchebag all night." You'll never be in any danger, but you won't be sheltered from the age-appropriate truth either.

That leaves pot, which you might think is cool but I have GOT YOU THERE! You may think you'll have this one over on me since it's basically legal (or maybe it's even legal in the future?) and we really don't think it's that bad for you in this house. But here you are thwarted by your own biology: you see, children, you have my genes and it's god's honest truth that we are one of those few people who you learn about in school where pot makes them SAD. Like, saaaaaaad sad. Like sobbing in the corner harshing everyone else's mellow no one will even pass it to you anymore SAD. Weeping over Flavor of Love reruns because Love Is A Sham; trust me on this one. Or don't! I don't even feel like trying to convince you not to smoke pot because the perfect reason not to is lurking like a time bomb in your DNA. I'm laughing back here in the past right now, and wearing my smug face again.

My smug face will be even more uproarious if this backfires on me, but I'm trusting biology on this one: you will suck at pot.

You can hate me for that one. I used to hate me for that one because I didn't get to be cool like all the other kids. But now I love it! Because I future love you, Future Kids. And you don't get to be cool like all the other kids, but you get to be good-looking because I intend to marry a smoking-hot dude so maybe that's fair?




Image: Maggie Smith / FreeDigitalPhotos.net