Yesterday, sitting in the viewing area of my children's swim lessons, I watched a child in front of me climb under their folding chair and lie on their back. They seemed to study the underside of the chair, touching the screws at its corners, frowning. Mom, they said after a few minutes of this, not … Continue reading Hand me the wrench
My firstborn is five today. That’s five years of perpetual wakefulness and chatter; five years of emptying breasts and filling water bottles; five years of viruses rolling through the household and Legos rolling underfoot; five years of making the coffee one-handed; five years of screaming and tears—theirs and mine—when the structure breaks or the story … Continue reading Happy birthday
My second born has an imaginary friend who terrifies my sister. His name is Gongo, and they (Gongo and my child) met in the grocery store, where Gongo apparently approached and asked to be taken home. Over time, Gongo has inhabited many forms, and this is what terrifies my sister. He can be large or … Continue reading Imaginary friends
At least It’s not a horse’s head?
A few nights back, I rolled over in bed to find that my partner's hip had splintered into several hard, individual pieces. The sleep deprivation has us both aging rapidly, but this came as a bit of a shock. I pulled out the splinters and put them on the floor next to the bed. Because … Continue reading At least It’s not a horse’s head?
This morning my child is insisting on being called Jabba the Hut. One of the most humbling experiences is seeing your child do something objectively odd and recognizing in it something of your own (or your partner's) off-ness.
I’ve landed upon it: The foolproof solution for keeping your children from cursing. As with sex, the answer is not abstinence-only education, which only feeds curiosity and overproduction. The answer, as it turns out, is swearing yourself—early and often—around your children. This appears to breed in them the intuition that swearing—every shit, damn, and fucker—is … Continue reading Swearing
The toddler laid four plastic insects in a row. "Dis Da-ny," they said, pointing to the grasshopper. "Dis Ee-ya," indicating that the cricket stood for their baby sibling. "And dis Mama and Bama." Pointing to the cockroaches. I fear for the teenage years.
Last night while I was making dinner the toddler came in to the kitchen, naked but for a bike helmet. "This for eatin', Mama?" they asked, pulling something small, wet, and brown from their mouth. "No," I replied. "That is rabbit poop."
If you’ve ever had a power struggle
Last night, my partner and I were bested by a two-year-old and an orange. It’s not that it was Night 9 of self-isolation. We can’t blame COVID-19 for this. Hell, it wasn’t even due to overtiredness or teething or toddler-onset Conduct Disorder. It was just plain old, run-of-the-mill Toddler Behavior, thrown in the face of … Continue reading If you’ve ever had a power struggle