There are folks who fling themselves off cliffs in Norway with wingsuits and scrape the cliffsides with their fingertips at a hundred miles an hour. There exist people who strap themselves into rally cars and hurtle through forests on two…
There are folks who fling themselves off cliffs in Norway with wingsuits and scrape the cliffsides with their fingertips at a hundred miles an hour. There exist people who strap themselves into rally cars and hurtle through forests on two…
Even at the lightning speed of a child’s growth you sometimes miss the transitions from one stage to another. It’s not as if they are mute one day then say, “More milk please,” the next and you stare gape-mouth at…
Child Harbat still isn’t that big on vegetables. As a baby she downed terrific amounts of anything green, pureed and spoon-fed into her smiling mouth. Now she finds a microscopic fleck of basil on her pizza and picks it off,…
How do you explain death to a child when you understand so little about it yourself? Last night I found myself struggling to come up with an easy way to broach the subject with my daughter, a three-and-a-half year old…
For three years Child Harbat has watched while girls her age have grown our long Rapnuzel hair while hers has remained stubbornly short. Her hair has transformed from short downy to short spikey to short and fine and flat to…
Jesus, what a fiasco. Since the dentist told us ten days ago that Child Harbat’s pacifier had to go we’ve been a world of withdrawal. Without her familiar soothing mechanism, CH has been on a ten-day bender, all manic with…
Growing up in the Eastern United States I was lucky to live a life in the forest. The chirring of fussy mockingbirds, the perky call of chickadees and the haunting call of mourning doves are implanted in my mind forever. …