Those of you with fair-skinned children are similarly dreading a certain aspect of the upcoming season and mumbling along with me, “This year I will try to remain calm.”
A post for pet lovers and everyone who has loved Chuck from afar.
Let me tell you a story about a dog named Chuck.
“California here we come, right back where we started from. Pedal to the floor. Thinkin’ of the roar.”
You could make the argument that it’s ironic that I’m starting a tradition around the mission of fighting hunger when both of my kids don’t like to eat. And you’d be right.
Historical facts do not matter when trying to distract a five-year-old from the knowledge that we are not yet at our destination.
We threw a party involving both Marlo AND a piñata and somehow no one got hurt.
When it comes to games involving the alphabet, pity the participant who is in his sixties and can’t remember what comes after the letter C.
A bittersweet milestone, one that is tearing me up as much as it is confusing for her.
Yet another first for my child who is drawn to books and art and writing elaborate fictional stories in a summer replete with physically breaking free.