8:50 am. This morning. Me, standing at bottom of stairs: “Nick! Are you awake?” Nothing. “Nick!” Nothing. Dracko, from the chair across the room: “NICKLIE!” “Yeah…” Me: “It’s time to get something to eat! And bring your sheets down to start the laundry!” 9:03 am: Nick stumbles into the kitchen, expertly wrapped in bed sheets,

One of the songs my little patient continually asks for is the one the Little Mermaid sings: Look at this stuff. Isn’t it neat? Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete? Wouldn’t you think I’m a girl, a girl who has everything? Look at this trove, treasures untold. How many wonders can one cavern hold? Looking

“This is so stupid! I’m never doing it like this when I’m an adult!” Lord, help us, I thought. What could be so hard about learning on which side of the plate a spoon should be placed? What situation have we gotten ourselves into? Often I look back on the twists of life, and wonder

Life is just not the same when you can find a cucumber’s face staring up at you from your bathroom sink, now, is it? Hence, I wrote nothing this week accept a raccoon fantasy. Let me explain. I’ve been tutoring 9-year-old twins this year and included “our” boys in some of the projects. This week

“Let me get this straight,” N said. “We’re taking the car just because the truck doesn’t have AC?” “Yes,” Marnell said. “But the truck has more room!” That exchange is a mere sample of some of the conversations we’ve had in the last number of hours and days preparing for and en route to spend

“Shall we spill the beans now?” These were among the first words I heard when I came in this afternoon from work. The boys had been with Marnell most of the day. “Which beans?” Marnell asked D. “About what happened this morning,” D said. “Do you have something to tell me?” I asked. “Yes,” he