I wonder about all the things my ten-year-old knows that I don’t. First of all there’s all the data he reaps from the internet. “Look, mom,” he says and types, “do a barrel roll” into the search box of the
Forget about children. Adults are beastlier, having gained independence from parental control, the right to inebriate ourselves with all kinds of drugs, the American privilege of adding lethal weapons to our toy collections, and a whole bunch of advantages that
I thought that ages 12 and 13 would be years of great transition in my child. I was surprised that adolescence actually seems to start at 10, where girls take delight in complaining about the introduction of bras (“sports brackets”
Gah! I hate being two-faced. I used to think little kids are cute: their big melty eyes, their cherubic cheeks, and their awkward movements as they learn to master their little bodies. Do you know how tricky a jumping jack
My son Max is pretty much all about cheese and carbs. He doesn’t believe in consuming plant life—nothing involving fruit anyway, in any form. Well, maybe ketchup… and the natural fruit flavors in gummy candy. Okay, I also sneak mashed bananas
Our most recent argument is about putting gel in Max’s hair to keep it out of his eyes. Max is growing his hair out again, which means the hair in front hangs like a curtain, too short to tie back just yet.
Today my sixth grader is dressed in his finest black. He’s also taped a feather on either side of his bow tie. His social studies class is having a funeral for their mummified chicken E. I. Eeyaihotep. They’ve been studying
Uncle! I give in! I’ve been at this blog for a whole year. It’s been fun, it’s been work, and it’s time to take a break. What happened to June?? My Great Aunty Elsie was fond of pointing out that
This is Jackson, one of our two cats who recently joined our household. He haunts our kitchen sink like a giant black cockroach covered in fur. I don’t leave dirty dishes unwashed for long, but he likes to stick his
Amazing how much energy children have until you finally go somewhere YOU want to go. Then the wind dies beneath their wings, and they are a draaaaag. This is a picture of my friend and I celebrating Mother’s Day at Storm King Art
But you’re really good at it! (Oh, you crazy multitasking superhero, you!) Happy Mother’s Day!
This is a picture of a parent letting go. More specifically, it’s a photo of my ten-year-old waiting to cross the street because his school is on this block. I always watch him as he walks through the intersection before returning to our apartment, and
Max’s friend, Noah, was describing band practice at school the other day. This picture is for Noah who wrote all the words to this cartoon.
Max has got a friend named Alice. I like Alice, her spitfire and smarts. However she’s always been a bit of a pain, impulsive and impossible to control. Lately she’s become quite abusive, kicking him in the shins and stomping