Tiny bubbles

They were tiny, in the beginning, as children are. Tiny and innocent and selfish and sharing all in one. They corrected each other’s grammar, helped each other up the climbing wall in the gym, listened patiently and without judgment as yet another fellow tot rambled on about bugs, or space travel or endangered species. They…

Son of a schoolie

It sucks to be the son of a former nerd. Even more so to be the son of two former nerds. Sorry, my sons. So be it. Recently, my eldest was at a gathering of his sports team. It was a new team and the coaches wisely thought the boys should break bread and get…

Bad-ass mothering

“That truck is carrying some bad-ass chemicals,” announced my son on the way to school this morning. “How do you know that?” I asked. “The rating on the side of the truck, Mom. It’s an eight. That’s a highly acidic substance.” “And how do you know THAT?” I asked. “We covered acidity/alkalinity in a science…

Bookish and Bonkers

I know a boy. He’s sensitive and funny, unpredictable and cantankerous. He’s my boy. His own boy, really, but I’ve been lucky enough to be lent him in this lifetime. I love him. And I also wring my hands. And then I smile. Let’s call him Bookish. When most of us have a raging headache, we crawl…

Label mania

I like labels. On my food. Not my children. This does not bode well in an era when parents are finding the need to establish their children as a jock, brain, budding artist, chess champion—you name it—at an increasingly early age. I talk to a lot of parents, partly because I’m a journalist with kids…