The other night at dinner, you sat by my side — not necessarily a coveted position these days because you tend to use your neighbor...

Burke, this evening at 10:36 you turned eight. Even now, as I listen to your unrestrained laughter with friends in the other room, I can...

Blythe, this last year as I watched you shoot out of your lingering baby chubs and try to bite apples with missing front teeth, I...

{this moment}: A Friday ritual. A single photo (or group of photos) capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment...

Or “phree,” as you might say, holding your three fingers high in the air, as if to warn the world before you, “I’m coming!” And...

Seven years, Burke? Could it really be seven years since I held your new six pound frame, so fragile and unknown to me? Is it...

It really is a wonderful life. And we all wanted to make sure you remembered, so this is how we celebrated you this year on...

You are a force, Burke. Not the force, but a force nonetheless. Whether throwing your body to tackle someone or wrapping your legs and arms around...

This last year I often told people, “someone should write a book paralleling toddlers and teenagers.” Both stages, somehow awkardly trapped in the continuum of...

Dad and I often refer to you as a man trapped in a boy’s body: a man-child, I suppose. The other day we were talking...