One of the most important things I tried to stress to my children, especially as they approached their teens, was that they would be faced […]
My father was a dichotomy wrapped in dysfunction. He was a type A “glad-hander” – always ready to shake your hand with a big smile whether he knew you or not. But he couldn’t pay a compliment to save his life. He was a strict disciplinarian whose approach to “spare the rod, spoil the child” ensured we would never feel spoiled. But he provided us with the tools of play (toys) that would (in my case anyway) activate imagination and encourage creativity.
Becky was my wild child. I understand that there is an ancient mother’s curse: “May you grow up to have a child just like YOU!” […]
I was sitting at the computer one day doing something totally innocuous and listening to Music Channel’s Soundscapes. It’s fascinating how certain sounds, sights, smells can trigger specific memories. One of the songs that was played was a variation on a very old lullaby – I don”t even remember now which one it was. But that tune triggered the memory of a time when I used to sing a different lullaby to my baby brother.