The box is tossed in front of the front door, the bag is almost completely empty, and, mixed between the pieces, are squashed particles of cereal dust.
My son turns television watching into an all-out physical event.
I didn’t get mad at him for an impulse that he obviously couldn’t control in that moment. I wanted to. A voice in my head said, “Yo. Freak out.”
The things I do for my son aren’t done for his recognition, appreciation, or even attention. They’re done because I love him.
Keeping his iPad away for the entire final day of Spring Break sounded crazy to everyone, including me, but it had to be done.
So many people like to preach about the importance of fathers in a family unit but then look down on them when they arrive pushing a stroller.