For the first time in all our grocery outings, he was focused and tuned in to his surroundings. Rather than coming along for the ride, my boy was a willing co-pilot.
For the first time in all our grocery outings, he was focused and tuned in to his surroundings. Rather than coming along for the ride, my boy was a willing co-pilot.
If he suddenly stops tomorrow and begins sliding down the chute rather than climbing the ladder, I will still be proud to be his dad.
He’s succeeded at things I never dreamed possible – things that experts never dreamed possible. He’s not only persevered, he’s crushed it.
Hey, kids are happy? Yeah? Not for long. Ice cream man is here.
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.
What alternate universe is Sesame Street on that monsters never age or retain knowledge, yet humans do both?
Keeping his iPad away for the entire final day of Spring Break sounded crazy to everyone, including me, but it had to be done.
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