The best place for a good conversation with your teenage son is a traffic jam: no one bothers you and neither of you can go in either direction. This afternoon he is sitting next to me, staring at his cell phone. Suddenly, after a deep sigh, a revelation follows. He whispers softly to me: “Mom, I am in love.” A small smile automatically appears on my mouth. Without sound, because teenagers don’t like that. I whisper back just as softly: “Who is the lucky one?” Another deep sigh follows: “I don’t know yet, mom. I can’t choose!”
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