When you get bored, it’s hard not to mope – and harder still to avoid snacking, unless you’re my 10-year-old son.
Growing up and becoming wisecracks
My 11-year-old daughter is growing up and her imagination is transforming from the fanciful to the real. Or is it?
My nine-year-old daughter is growing up. She’s put on makeup to sing a pop song on stage. I’m happy, certainly. But it’s been so very fast.
My eldest daughter has a plan to make sure that her younger brother can always have a good meal made with food that he can eat.
I want to cruise the open highway in an old VW Van. Not my son. He’s thinking, rev it up in a big-ass truck, a monster truck. The bigger, the better!
My seven-year-old son has declared that there are no monsters. He’s too old for that stuff, that is, unless you send him off on his own in the dark…