
Q: What is it called when your child, when sitting on a bench in the downtown area of a southern
A: The
While we’ve had plenty of the prerequisite for May flowers, our yard and landscaped areas will not reach their full blooming potential because our budding florist has decided that the flowers function better as in-the-home decorations or as gifts for our friends. Here are the last of our tulips, which incidentally, she called “byooo-tiful roses.”
Parenting a toddler by one’s lonesome is no picnic or walk in the park, unless of course it’s one of those rare instances, as it was for me today, when it’s just you accompanying your child on a walk through the park to find the perfect spot for a picnic. With
This daddy-daughter weekend confirmed what I’d only intuited hitherto: that parenting solo is an exhausting and challenging endeavor.
For the last segment of my multi-leg college reunion, Olivia and I spent some QT with these cuties: Emmy’s the baby and Addie’s her older sister. Their mother Becky and I are friends from school. Our children exemplify why single-race classification schemes will soon be the relic of a bygone era.
On this day, our multi-culti and multiracial children multitasked in the basement of their multilevel home.
Stop Number Two was Hassan and Michelle’s house, where Hassan gave us a tour of their new digs and dazzled us with his fancy electronic gizmos. Their basement alone could pass for a Best Buy.
I enjoyed watching experiencing the Discovery Channel’s Planet Earth series on an HD television the size of Luxembourg; Olivia loved acing me in tennis (no joke) and bowling strikes (again, no joke) when playing the Nintendo Wii.
We’ll all have a laugh one day if and when Olivia becomes an accountant. Add this photo to the growing list of pics foretelling of professional possibilities: basketball player, zebra racer, photographer, fairy godmother, politician, race car driver, professional golfer, apple picker, marathoner, cyclist, farmer, environmentalist, trapeze artist, podiatrist, dog trainer, painter, restaurant critic, and housekeeper.
…and baths bring hair that can be combed. Olivia’s hair is always one tangle away from a rat’s nest, which makes styling it an adventure. I don’t blame her for running away at the sight of combs or brushes.
In order to establish some sense of hair decorum though, we’ve had to utilize both a third party and Olivia’s obsession with haircuts (at malls, she makes us stop by hair studios so that she can observe the lopping of the locks). At G’s house, Olivia gets out a stool, a towel (which she calls a cape), barrettes, and hair ties in preparation for heh-cut time. She lets G work on her hair first, and then returns the favor (as shown above).
OK are the initials of our daughter's first and last names. Reed is the name of Olivia's younger brother.