Some women are natural moms. Earth Mother types. Kids are drawn to them like the children of Hamelin were to the Pied Piper. Theirs are the houses where everyone loves to congregrate to soak up the warmth, to take in the smell of freshly baked oatmeal cookies served with icy cold milk and to bask in the glow of their admiring smiles and never ending praise over everyone's accomplishments. Their doors are always open.

I'm not one of those moms. I love my kids and my kids love me. But that's about as far as my parenting skills extend. I've never been good with other people's kids. Kids make me nervous. You never know what's going to come out of their mouths. Some people find that disarming and delightful. I find it nervewracking.

And I never know what to say to them. I don't do baby talk very well. And once a child is old enough to carry on a halfway decent conversation, I find myself talking to them like an adult. It's elicited some quizzical looks. My kids are teenagers now, but even so, they occasionally ask me ever-so-gently to tone down the sarcasm around their friends. It doesn't always play well. They think I'm being mean. I always think I'm being clever.

What brought all this to mind was a recent trip to Chicago, in which I sat next to a boy, maybe 11, who was traveling alone. He was already seated near the window when I took my seat and immediately began an internal debate over whether or not to say something to him. While the dilemma may seem silly to most readers, it seemed only natural inside my head. Besides, my kids have traveled alone and they never liked it when strange adults began inane conversations with them as they were trapped in such close quarters for several hours. "How old are you?" "Where are you going?" "Have you traveled alone before?" "Are you excited about your trip?" blah, blah, blah. And they usually had bad breath.

I couldn't decide if I was being rude by ignoring him or irritating by talking to him. I finally decided to break the ice by offering him a piece of gum. He shrugged and took the offering and I used the opportunity to provide the only one-way verbal exchange between us during the 2 1/2 hour flight.

Me: "You know, my kids used to travel by themselves and they never liked it when strange adults started conversations with them, but I just want to let you know that if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me."

He kind of smiled, shrugged, nodded his head and turned and looked out the window. I felt better. Maybe he felt better too; at least a bit more secure knowing I wasn't as mean as I looked.  And we were both off the social hook.