My son is two years old or, in the jaw-clenching vernacular of uber-parents, he’s twenty-four months old. Before having kids I vowed only to count a child’s age in months until they were old enough to count it in years. …
I’ve learned many things in becoming a parent and one of the biggest is that I’m stubborn and argumentative. How do you argue with a one-year old? How do you argue with a five-year old? Is it worth it? Answers: …
When you’re half the height of an adult human you live in a completely different stratum. Instead of teetering around on stilt legs you scuttle around near the ground like a millipede. Falling down is no problem—you can practically bounce…
The weekend was a tiring march from one required task to the next: dishes, laundry, clean house for party to which I’m not invited and must hide with the children in the kitchen and bedrooms, smear food off the floor…
These are the things my son does that I love: When I pick him up from preschool he sees me from across the room, lets out a happy yip, and crawls to me at top speed, arms and legs…
Just like Taco Tuesday or Pizza Friday, this blog needs a themed day. And since I’m UncleF#*k-Up I get to declare a day and then promptly ignore or forget about it. Today’s grab bag starts with things going wrong in…
I haven’t talked about my work here before because…well, I’m not sure why except it as nice to have that clean break. Life is not full of clean breaks, however, and things that are important in my work life are…
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…