The last bit of golden sunlight glows on his cheeks as he climbs the funhouse stairs and makes his way across the rope bridge. I tell myself to memorize the way he looks right now, the pure happiness shining on his face.
Through a few frantic texts, we decided we only had one solution that made sense. We left our eight-year-old son home alone.
Welcome to Veggie Village, the very boring column where we talk about forcing our kids to eat vegetables because we’re mean. Today I’m going to share my favourite methods for steaming broccoli and how to … OK, that should guarantee any kids have stopped… Continue Reading “The pressure of ‘believing’”
Our whole family was thrilled when my sister got engaged last August. She asked me to be her matron of honour — yay! — and she wanted our eight-year-old son — her only nephew — to be the ring bearer. He immediately declined, explaining,… Continue Reading “When kids have wedding jitters”
She’s the last baby I’ll ever have, and she’s starting Primary this week.