“Just point me in the direction of the coffee.”
I love weekend mornings when my kids start emerging from their bedrooms, my eldest daughter in particular.
The 14-year-old is an expert in zombie-ness. She walks into the kitchen with her hair everywhere and her shoulders hunched forward. Each step is slow and unmeasured. She bumps into chairs and doors, and nonsensical comments follow. [continue reading…]
“Dad, that’s a tree and only a tree. Got it?”
My family was without a car for nearly a month, so the five of us went everywhere on foot or public transport, sometimes by bike.
One night, I rode the nine blocks to fetch my son from speech therapy for his autism, and we started to walk home. [continue reading…]
“Who’s the ass?”
We went sand boarding in some high dunes on the coast of Argentina, and my three kids and two of their friends got busy, my youngest daughter shooting down the steeps on a boogie board.
I smiled as they helped each other strap on the sand board and edge to the slope, and there they went down at fast speeds.
Then I said, “Watch this kids,” and I went for it thinking of the glory of being the coolest dad in town, maybe beyond that. [continue reading…]