A dog went for a walk before the sidewalk set, and left his impression in the wet concrete. A little boy noticed this and etched his initials nearby.
The boy enjoyed the moment, but I wonder what the dog thought.
Among the things I think about on when walking alone at the end of 2013: It would suck to step barefoot into wet cement.
Some friends and I were discussing this article about whether parents should feel comfortable with their teenagers having sex in their homes. I personally would not.
But certainly what I do support is making sure that as my daughter grows up, she knows what I think about the issue – not about sex in my house, specifically, but more importantly my thoughts on sex in a woman’s life in general.
Here are some things I’d like her to know:
Do you remember when you learned the truth about Santa?
I don’t, but I am certain my daughter will.
She was in fourth grade, maybe the last kid in her class to believe.
The two of us were eating dinner at a restaurant I frequented in the months after her father and I decided to divorce. I didn’t yet have it together enough to cook at home.
A paraphrased recollection of the conversation:
“How was school today, Lily?”
“Okay, I guess. Actually, maybe not.”
“Just kids saying stupid stuff.”
“What stuff, Lily?”
“Mama, I have a very important question to ask and I want you to tell me the truth. Do you promise to tell me the truth?” Continue reading