The question that comes at bedtime

Kids don't do small talk. Yours might save the big question for bedtime, with the light already off. Did you used to smoke? Then they wait. Every instinct grabs for a bad answer. The joke that makes it sound fun. The flinch that makes it sound shameful. The quick no that isn't true. You want to be a good example. What you've got is a history.

That history is the example. A parent who was never hooked can only hand down a rule. A rule is the first thing a teenager tests. You've got something no rule can buy. Yes, I did. It acted like my friend and bossed me around. I didn't think I could stop. I stopped. That's a map, and someday they may need one.

Two things can wreck it. The glamour story, told with a grin, which teaches them the wrong thing about how it felt. The lecture, which loses them by the third sentence. Plain beats both. Short answer, straight face. Then let them ask the next one. Answer the question they asked, not the one you're afraid of.

Finish with the ending. It's the part they'll keep. You got out. It was hard and it was possible, both at once. A kid who knows people get out has an exit. God can take your worst chapter and turn it into their way through. You're not their warning. You're their proof.