“You know, Dad, he does have a point.”
My three children were bickering on a sunny morning at our house near the beach in Pinamar, Argentina.
It was a sibling sort of argument.
I didn’t ask for details. I just said, “Hey, what’s the problem? I mean, look at where we are. Not many kids get to spend the entire summer living at the beach. That’s what we do. We live at the beach for nearly three months a year.” [continue reading…]
“Just watch my crash landing!”
My three children had a friend over and they were playing a game of death on the beach.
Yes, a game of death.
They would act out what it would be like to get killed by an atomic bomb. Or by a machine gun, an arrow, a sip of poison, or by eating putrid food or too many hot dogs, or by getting told off by your mum and dad. [continue reading…]
“You don’t get it, do you?”
My youngest daughter has been the main contributor of art to this blog over the past few years.
The seven-year-old draws and paints like I write: because we have to.
She’s making strides. Her teacher at a weekly workshop told me that she is really getting it, that she’s really understanding.
I couldn’t be prouder. [continue reading…]