July 26, 2005 - Tuesday
For the second time in as many weeks, Harry has yelled at someone to "Stop Smoking." Today wasn't so tenuous, but last week we were driving in stop and go traffic with the top off the tracker and Harry said it to the person in the car beside him with the window open. I honestly don't know whether the guy heard him or not, because the stop light changed to green almost right away after it and started to drive ahead. I could not turn to see his face, nor did we see the car again.

Looking back on my childhood I realize that my parents, my father particularly, talked to us about cigarettes from an early age. It was never any stood of sit down serious talking, indeed, it's likely to have been inadvertent banter expressing their own feelings about smoking (including the memorable image that 'kissing someone who smokes is like kissing an ashtray,' something I unwittingly confirmed as a teen). But, intentional or not, I got the message that smoking was both dangerous and rather unsavory and I never had any urge to do it. I've very consciously taken a similar approach with Harry and Jeremy and it appears the message is getting through. Of course, I've also pointed out that their biological maternal grandmother died before they were born from lung cancer and that she smoked. That's probably a pretty direct and personal deterrent.


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