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Every day we battle, literally and figuratively. “Stop arguing with me,” I say. Then, as he continues in protest, I declare, “I’m not going to argue with you!” Meanwhile, he points his little finger-guns at me and “pchoo-pchoo” in my face. “Put your fingers...
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He walks out from behind the tall stacks in the children’s library, holding each book like an offering. His brown eyes turn up to meet mine, searching for a verdict. “Can we get this one?” he asks. Somehow, despite being...
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Tomorrow, they turn two and two weeks later my big boy will head off to kindergarten. We walked last night through the spritzing rain and I held his hand with the always dry, cracking skin while my husband pushed the big wide stroller brimming...
