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Mommy’s little neologist

I absolutely love the English language: etymology, slang, puns, homonyms — all the quirks and cultural nuance that make ESL students think our Anglo-Saxon forebears were inbred jesters slopped up on mead. So I’m especially enjoying English now as Eliot tries to wrap her chubby fists (and uncooperative tongue) around it. At 28 months, the…

And then he broke our hearts.

For the past few months, I’ve been cultivating a perfectly life-like fantasy world in which today was not drawing inexorably closer. Despite the fundamental and quantifiable natures of time, April 9 was not to arrive, certainly not soon and quite possibly never. It stood so far ahead on the calendar that even a mention of…

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