I find three vapes in my thirteen-year-old daughter’s jacket pocket. I put them next to her plate on the kitchen table, where she is eating a sandwich. “Here are your vapes, honey,” I say. “Mom, sorry…” I wink conspiratorially at her and continue upstairs.
“Mom?”
Silence. Then indignantly: “Those things are really bad for you! Hello?!”
Readers are the authors of this column. An Ikje is a personal experience or anecdote in a maximum of 120 words. Submit via [email protected]
A version of this article also appeared in the June 1, 2023 issue.
