Emma gave a little shrug at the napkins before finally pulling out the travel-sized container of wipes. They were softer, and wet, and anti-bacterial, too. Some things Emma still needed work at. How to use wipes wasn't one of them. She pulled one from the top of the container and went to work on a tiny pink nose as she listened to Lois.
"No," she admitted firmly. "I never did. I always swore I'd be a horrible parent, and I didn't want any kid living the life I had. Some of the kids in the group homes did because they wanted their kids to have better lives. I just couldn't take the chance." She hesitated, then, glancing down at her daughter. Well, it wasn't like she was going to go around blabbing, was it? "It was why I gave Henry up. I couldn't give him the home he needed and if he'd stayed with me, he'd have been bounced around foster homes till they declared me a fit parent. I couldn't do that to a kid."
Was she a fit parent now? Or even back in Storybrooke? It was hard to say. She knew she was better than she would've been at eighteen. Her job was demanding and scary at times, but it was honest work and she was good at it. And while neither kid didn't (and likely never would) know their fathers, they did have incredible male role models in their lives. Graham, Loki, Dick, Peter... People who were strong and smart and would teach her son to be the man she knew he could be and her daughter to only look for men who would respect her as a lady and not just some hot chick.
So yeah, she thought maybe she was getting the hang of this parenting thing. "You don't have any rush," she reminded Lois, smiling sympathetically. "You're both really young, you've got plenty of time. Assuming we don't all die tomorrow but is that really how you want to live your life? There's a fine line between 'live like you're dying' and...YOLO."