You ever have those moments when you question whether despite the hip-high stack of parenting books you’ve read, or all the research into products, or all the money you dump into preschool, or all the organic foods you buy, or all the countless thousands of hours of thoughtful nurturing and caregiving, you’re STILL fucking up…
Her limerick was filthier
So in a moment alone together the other night, the four-year-old pipes up with a fragment of her latest mental gymnastics: “Mama! ‘Bell’ rhymes with ‘HELL’!!” Precious, am I right?! I mean, that’s one adorable plate-load of Sugar/Spice/Nice© we’ve got right there! (And I wonder why none of the other preschool Mommies will talk to…
White-trash hybrid
Across the street from Eliot’s preschool is an auto repair shop, and every day I see this exceptional piece of American engineering parked out front: Yeah, I know: BITCHIN’!! But why do I really care? Because if you look closely, you’ll realize it’s an El Camino. . . with the front end of a Camaro….
When a bumper sticker isn’t enough
So I was driving around today and happened to stop at a red light behind this fella, at the corner of Ballard and Forehead/Steering Wheel. That’s one big-ass truck, but the devil is always is in the details, n’est pas? Now it’s all perfectly well and good to have your little “personal political convictions,” but…
Holy wooden anniversary
As of last Saturday, Michael and I turned the humongous clock hands to FIVE YEARS OF TOGETHERNESS. Apparently, the traditional gift for a five-year anniversary is “wood”; I was gonna give him a wooden ship in a bottle to symbolize our relationship’s stultifying entrapment and corking of his freedom, but then I figured he’d just…