She is screeching. Again. We’re in a quiet bookstore on a weekday afternoon. There’s no other family in sight, even in the children’s section. The place is full of careworn bookworms or hip Millenials. And all of them seem to be glowering at me. I can about guess what’s running through their heads: “Why can’t…
Dear Bean, There are certain things I know to be true. Among them are standard measurements of time. There are 24 hours in a day. There are 365 days in a year. And we are only given so many days on Earth. But babies, they bend the rules of time. Perhaps it’s because they are…
Dear Bun, Four short years ago you were cozily lodged against my ribs. You would kick like mad, long pushes and short jabs, and I think I knew then that you would be a spark, a bright flame dancing through life. I should have known how fast you would dance, how quickly the years would…
Bun has reached an age where people like to engage her in conversation by asking her questions. They ask her name, how old she is, and her favorite color. Sometimes if she is in a particularly chatty mood and giving good responses, or the adult is particularly dogged in their attempt to be friendly, they’ll…
