little words
Sometimes parenting (or cleaning/organizing a house with) young children feels Sisyphean: that I, just like this mythological man, am striving to push this boulder up a hill, only to watch it crush my toes and roll to the
a little brother’s trump card.
SAM (the boys’ good friend): Guess what? I have a picture of my new baby sister! (frantically waving a 3-D in-color sono of the new baby girl the Kings are about to adopt) LIAM: Oh. I
I have been followed by the lingering smell of urine all day today. It seems that no matter where I traverse within my home or car, it wafts sweet, stinky mockery in my face, “I
a preemptive defense
“ also drove my sisters and myself crazy by folding the most personal moments of our childhood lives into her talks as further illustrations of God’s hand on us, or to make points about how
it’s a cruel, cruel summer
I’m going to reengage and confess that I’ve been a b*tch this last week. We all have — well, carried some form of the attitude anyway. Or at least it’s felt that way. I want to blame (what’s
“i gave her my heart, she gave me a pen.”
My mom, with a $15 garage sale purchase, single-handily won Liam’s heart, again: a bike this time, not spider-man shoes. He’s been riding the pedal-less bike (Scuut) since we bought it for him two Christmases
little words
The boys, like most young children, starve for new information. So, where do they go for bedtime stories? The encyclopedia, naturally. Well, the other night they wanted to read about dinosaurs, T-Rex in particular. After reading
little words
As I mentioned in the post before, Liam has a little stomach bug right now, so he stayed home from school to rest. Liam: (entering the kitchen) Mom, I feel much better. I need to
can you hear me now?
Being at least two feet smaller than most people around you must leave you with a sense of being unseen, and therefore unheard.  That’s my only assumption for Burke’s volume level when he speaks. Even his