My son is a senior in high school this year.
My first born.
My 6'1" hairy, gangly, broad-shouldered baby.
So last week, my son and I did what many have done before us: We visited a college campus. We spent the night in a hotel, took a tour the next day, spoke to some students and ate some...
When the cab pulled up outside my grandparents’ house on Mirror Lake Drive, everybody walked outside to greet my brother and sister-in-law. But I ran. As fast as my little legs could carry me. And in to the arms of my brother where I burst out in to these gigantic sobs. I couldn’t stop. ...
First, they start going down to the playground at the end of the street. By themselves.
And walking the mile home from school.
I knew this week was going to be a crazy one.
I'm working on a new project or two. The first quarter of school is coming to a close for my kids.
And I was driving down to Miami with my daughter to go to a concert. One that she was really excited for. The Cud Life...
I’ve been thinking a lot about that post I wrote last week.
Don’t Stare At My Daughter.
I got a lot of feedback on it. Mostly women with daughters who were feeling the same way that I did.
Disgusted. Concerned. And powerless.
I went to the mall yesterday with my two kids. My giant 16 year-old son and his sister, my petite 14 year-old daughter.
We had just walked through the doors, and were on our way to one of those smelly teen emporiums to return a shirt, when I noticed these two men staring at us. ...