Moody’s law: The interest your child will show in being affectionate to you and in the relating of the minutia of her day is inversely proportional to the number of minutes you actually have available to spend with her before deadline.

I am hunched over my computer, frantically clicking websites, trying to find research showing the percentage of American children and teens who consume energy drinks. Slightly Older Princess, who normally acts like her mother’s touch might convey Swine Flu,  is draped, literally, over my left shoulder. What am I looking up? she wants to know. What for? Who cares?

This from a kid who practically falls asleep on her dinner plate if I start to talk about my day.

If I were a good mom, I would set aside the keyboard, cuddle her on my lap and explain the story, using it as a Teachable Moment about the potential dangers of concentrated caffeine. But I am a Mean Mom, so instead I tell her how very much I love her and explain that she is to leave me strictly alone for the next hour and a half.

In my defense, though, I pulled out the Teachable Moment once the story was done. I told both Princesses about the two Central Linn High School kids who’d had a reaction after drinking a potent energy drink called Redline. I reminded them that for most people, caffeine is fine in small amounts, such as my usual morning cup of tea and Daddy’s Mountain Dews and the occasional Dr Pepper we’ll allow if, say, we’re hitting a drive-through and it’s early in the day. The danger comes in trying to use it for something else, like to get artificially pumped up before a game.

It was a good conversation. I even managed to sneak in a comment or two about how, as they get older, friends might tell them to try something because it will make them feel really good, or make their head feel fuzzy, or whatever it might be. Some kids sniff glue or paint to get high off the fumes, I told them. Some kids choke themselves, or each other. “That cuts off oxygen to the brain,” I stressed. “Your brain needs that oxygen to survive.”

Little Princess’s eyes got big. “I’d never do that!” she gasped.

SOP rolled her eyes. “Mom, we’re not stupid,” she scoffed.

“No,” I agreed. “I hope you’re still this smart when you’re 13 or 14 or 15.”

And all I can do is hope they are.