Apparently, I don’t know how to share information. When I suggested that Daughter #2 call her friend to check on an ailing parent, she (texted) back:

‘Call’ lol mother i am a millennial

Daughter #3 agreed with her. At least I think so. What she actually said was,

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It was so much easier in the old days. All I had to do was drive carpool, and the kids would spill everything. When it comes to information, small children are natural socialists. They believe any facts they have should be shared equally by all, even when they aren’t actual facts.

On the first day of preschool, my daughter’s teacher welcomed the parents and informed us that within the week, she would know everything about us, from what we have for dinner, to our latest traffic tickets, to just what we think of our boss.

When I drove the preschool carpool, I had a front row seat to this information exchange. One day, for example, the kids informed me that Ian’s cat had died.

Me: “Ian must have been pretty sad.”

Kids: “Only at first. But the three days are almost up.”

Me [morbidly fascinated]: “Three days?”

Kids: “Jessica found out you only have to stay dead for three days. And then Davy says the Easter Bunny wakes you up again. So Ian is going home to dig up his cat and bring her back inside where the Easter Bunny could find her. Why are we stopping here?”

Me: “I just have to make a quick call to Ian’s mother.”

In my days as a carpool mom, I heard a wide range of topics addressed in the back seat. For example, in addition to religion, I also heard them debate:

• History: “When Mom and Dad were kids, were there dinosaurs or just cowboys?”
• Career Development: “When she grows up, my big sister wants to be a movie star but I want to be a ballerina. Or a horse.”
• Entitlement Programs: “How come the Tooth Fairy leaves more money or presents for some kids’ teeth? Maybe she can’t really go to everyone’s house. Maybe Santa Claus does some of them so the reindeer get exercise and won’t get so fat.”
• Government Budgets: “My Dad says the government makes its own money but they’d rather take all of his instead.”

A friend of mine said she worries that someday her daughter will write a book called “Everything I Ever Needed to Know I learned in Carpool.” She related a typical conversation between four 5-year-olds on their way home from school.

Kids [earsplitting crescendo]: “We’re coming to the cemetery. YOU HAVE TO HOLD YOUR BREATH!”

Girl #1: “Why did that grave have a heart on it?”

Girl #2: “That person must have died on Valentine’s Day.”

Boy #1: “And then Donatello blasted him…”

Girl #2: “I know where babies come from.”

Girl #1: “Big deal. Everybody knows they get there when the Mom and Dad love each other very much.”

Girl #2: “But I know I how they got there.”

Boy #2: “And then Rafaello blasted him…”

Girl #2: “But there’s something more…[whisper, whisper]“

Girl #1: “Yuck! Who told you that?”

Boy #1: “And then Michelangelo blasted him.”

Girl #2: “A girl in the ballpit at Mickey D’s. I told my big brother, but he didn’t believe me. So there was only one thing to do. I asked my Dad, and he said it was above his pay grade and to ask my Mom—he says that a LOT. So I asked Mom and she said it was true!”

Girl #1: “Well, maybe your mother doesn’t know everything. We should ask my big sister. She’s almost twelve, so she’s a grownup AND she knows everything.”

Boy #2: “And then Leonardo blasted him…”

Girl #2: “What really gets me is there are three kids in my family. That means they must have done it THREE TIMES!”

Boy #1: “And then April kissed him.”

All four kids: “OH YUCK!”

My friend concluded: “So there you have it. Another typical carpool trip covers life, death, love, sex education, and armed turtles. No wonder kids think adult conversation is boring.”