Here are some of the darndest things my eldest has come up with in the past few weeks.
Tonight, my husband posed one of those husbandly questions that had the potential to take a turn south.
I never expected to have imaginary friends living in my house. I mean, I had kids, so I always knew it’d generally be a possibility. But, apparently, it’s now a reality.
I can’t risk the possibility that a teeny, tiny child of mine was conceived but not allowed to grow.
With this beautiful time of year comes an unavoidable tradition: Mass offerings (and consumption) of holiday treats. In response to all of these homemade goodies, I’ve discovered a new irrational fear.
Did I really want to be one of those women who catered to her 9-month-old by paying to sit criss-cross-applesauce in a circle of fellow catering mothers, their offspring, and a man strumming his guitar and making us dance around the room?
You know you’re potty training (your child) when…
After all, what little boys don’t love a reason to roar and chase each other?
Yes, my son is fairly tall for his age. Yes, my daughter can communicate when she needs a new diaper. But what can’t little kids do?
I’m always amazed at how simple life seems when I’m with only one of my children.