Parenting during a pandemic

I’m crouched in a makeshift shelter assembled from scraps, cheerfully reading a story to my kids so they don’t realize there’s a war zone outside.

I’m clawing my way out of a volcano with both kids strapped to my back, calmly pointing out the pretty orange colour of the coals.

I’m hustling them towards lifeboats but making it into a silly, lighthearted race to see who’s the fastest runner.

I have always been a parent who’s really honest with their kids. I taught them about puberty and sex and LGBTQ+ issues early — too early, maybe. I’ve never been great about upholding Santa Claus/Easter Bunny/tooth fairy lore. There’s nothing I haven’t been able to discuss with them, but suddenly I’m lying through my teeth every single day.

At almost-eight and almost-10, my kids are old enough that they’ll remember living through the COVID-19 pandemic. Is it going to scar them for life?

I have one child prone to bouts of terrible anxiety and another who lives for socialization and is crushed, daily, that she can’t be with her friends and teachers.

And so, every day is an acting exercise …