Igot called “Georgia” by one of my son’s friends the other day. I wasn’t insulted — I know from firsthand experience that kids nowadays have a startling familiarity with adults. My own son and his cousin, both 6 years old, once walked up to my husband’s 70-year-old uncle when they saw him smoking a cigar and lectured him on its dangers.

“We thought smoking was bad,” they both said when we explained why the man had reacted poorly to their correction.”It is,” I said, mumbling something about adults and personal choice and the two of them minding their own business.

I didn’t know quite what to say to them because I couldn’t relate to the degree of comfort they had in expressing their opinion about an adult’s bad habit. As a child, I was terrified of grown-ups. I’d never have presumed a degr

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