Out of the box

We have a rule in our house. No cardboard boxes are to be recycled until they are covered in crayon, marker, paint and scotch tape, and at least 6 windows/port holes/secret doors are cut into the sides, and the entire structure has been sat on, jumped on, rolled in, rolled over, rolled up and otherwise mashed into a giant, limp wad. Well, to be fair, this is not a rule as much as a precedent that is followed with great rigor and passion. Also, I let the kids play with them, too.


Just a chip

As kids age, you start to see more and more of their true personalities. It’s cool to watch them form and change, and to know you’re making a person.

At age 11, My Oldest Girl is incapable of hurrying. She has no “fast” setting. She’s always off in her own world inside her head, and it shows. She has little inherent respect for authority. She’s pleasant and funny and she loves deeply. But it’s clear she’s usually just somewhere else.

In other words, she’s just like me.