A friend came across these notes she’d written about her daughter and kindly and boldly sent me photos. She even allowed me to share them with you. Enjoy! Read the rest of this entry
My youngest loves cats and kittens. A recent visit to the library netted her this book, which became our bedtime “story.”
Ridiculously cute, am I right?
For kicks and giggles, I was subtly adding words in my “reading voice.”
For instance (not a direct quote from the book): “Cats are fun and playful just like Momma.”
“Cats are beautiful and smart just like Momma.”
Then my husband walks in and says, Read the rest of this entry
I’m trying my hand at novel writing. My oldest is eager to read my book. I’ve caught her a couple of times trying to read over my shoulder as I type, but I’ve told her she’s too young for it. At dinner she asked, “Can I just read the parts that I’m not too young for?” I said she can read it when it’s published. She’ll probably have children of her own by then, so it should be all good.
Then my seven-year-old said, “Maybe your book will be made into a movie.”
“That would be great!” I said, impressed that she was looking out for the success of her momma.
But then she added, Read the rest of this entry
The sensei asked his eager students, “What do we need to do when we kick?” The boys and girls, aged 6-9, repeated back the typical answers that Sensei has drilled into them: Focus your eyes, take small steps, kick as high as your stomach, and it’s not a race. Then one little boy in the back added confidently, “use your balls.” Sensei with a slight smile and a nod to the parents who were watching and listening said, Read the rest of this entry
The conversation at the lunch table today:
“T is for toot.”
“F is for fart.”
“P is for poop.” Read the rest of this entry
When my daughter was about four or five, visiting her grandmother, my mom was telling her about her family. My daughter was asking questions about my mother’s mom and dad. My mom told her that her mother was still alive, but her father, whom my daughter had never met, had died. A few minutes later MY father walked into the room and my daughter yelled, Read the rest of this entry
“Why aren’t you playing with your new Prince Philip doll?” I asked my seven-year-old.
“Because he’s grumpy,” she responded.
“Why is he grumpy?” Read the rest of this entry