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Archives / 2013 / April
  • How Do I Raise This Child!?

    My youngest son is that child that you know will do amazing things, if only he survives to adulthood.  He is responsible for every gray hair on my head, wrinkle on my face, and my future heart condition.

    He’s the kid who cut his own hair, not once, but seven times!  Who drew a path with blue marker across his grandmother’s entire house --cherry floors, carpet, and tile-- so that I would have a trail to follow to find him.   He’s the one who put dish soap rather than dish detergent in the dishwasher because he wanted to see what would happen –twice.   He’s the boy who put all manner of things --toys, bars of soap, pears-- down the toilet causing my dad and me to become experts at removing and replacing toilets, the boy who, upon getting locked in a sun-room, broke three windows to get out (good-bye $700.00), the boy who regularly loses frogs, salamanders, spiders, and toads inside my house, and who inadvertently  released several mice in my parents’ living room which were never seen again.  The boy who ran away from home to the backyard, packing all of his favorite stuffed animals, but no food, and then tried to start a fire and catch a squirrel with a homemade spear for dinner. …

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  • Flying with Kids

    On Sunday we flew home from Florida with our five kids.  To add to the general excitement, ten of our nieces and nephews (13 and under) were on the flight as well.  When the flight attendants offered $800 in vouchers, a first class ticket on tomorrow’s flight, a hotel stay and meal vouchers to anyone willing to give up their seat, you would have thought that the rest of the passengers would have taken a good look at all our kids and stampeded one another to get back off the plane.  Heck, I considered it.

     

    The first thing I do when getting to our seats on a plane is ask the person sitting between me and one of my kids to trade seats with my two year old nephew who has been assigned a seat twenty rows away  with strangers.  Any sane person looks at my arms full of baby and legs clad in three year old and decides that twenty rows away from us is the place they want to be.  Even if it is a middle seat.  (Last time I flew the woman next to us sneaked off and got a nice older gentleman to switch seats with her –failing to mention that he would now be sitting next to a six month old.) Then I have my nephew switch seats with my teenager so that the nephew is with his parents and my …

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