Teens at Work
When my husband was seventeen, he spent a summer working construction with a bunch of men twice his age. Making much more than minimum wage, he kept his mouth shut when he was charged with tasks far beyond his strength…
Consequences and Night-Waking
Q: Several days ago. my son, 11, stayed home from school because of illness and I had to take a day off from work to stay with him. I found out that he was actually faking his illness to get…
7 Precious Moments
My older daughter was toiling over an English assignment last year. It was an essay titled “Precious Moments.” Why, I wonder, is she having trouble coming up with a few hundred words on precious moments? Haven’t we, as parents, provided…
Summer Reading
Almost two hours into our road trip, the girls were quiet in the backseat. From behind the wheel, I marveled at how smoothly this journey was going as we made our way north to visit family and give away graduation…
Dad vs. Universe
June is here! The end of school is nigh! Run for your lives! OK, maybe that’s my take on summer break. Maybe you actually look forward to mosquito-bitten days of tedium and kids bored to petty crime. Or, maybe you…
Safe Travels
When my daughter was four months old, my mother asked when I would turn her rear-facing car seat around so she could be “more entertained and less prone to suffer from motion sickness.” Tiny from the get-go, my daughter was…
Computer Limits and First Steps
Q : Our desktop computer is in a family-access area. Now my 12-year-old has inherited a laptop, which she has started taking to her bedroom. How should we go about setting limits? A While your daughter is reaching an age…
Roadmap for Cycling Success
I’ll never forget the day I learned how to ride a two-wheeler. When I looked over my shoulder – just for a second until I felt my handlebars start to wobble – and saw the look of pride on my…
Daddy’s Boy
The little figure on the conference room table squirmed. His tiny nose snuffled at the stale office building air, or perhaps it was the burnt coffee wafting from the break room. Huge malted-milk-ball eyes darted about the room, wide open…
Farewell to the Fourthies
The call comes just as I am trying to pry open her stuck bedroom window. It’s almost time for dance class, and she’s forgotten her jazz pants. They’re in the bottom drawer of her dresser, she says. And can I…
