Ouch

The Four-Year-Old, laid up with a sore throat just before Christmas: “Mommyo, when my spit and my throat meet, they get into a fight.”

Hybrid Sharks and Other News of the Week

This week finds us enthralled by the many flavors of evolutionary adaptation.

If you are interested in that sort of thing…

There’s an update on my novel-in-progress, Asylum, over at BostonWriters.

Book Review: Pooh Invents a New Game

This week’s book is a classic Winnie-the-Pooh story and there is really very little I need to say about it. So instead of adding another five paragraphs of praise for A. A. Milne to the Webiverse, I will simply share what may be my favorite paragraph from any book The Four-Year-Old and I have read together thus far.

In which The Four-Year-Old uses Siri to send her first text

For those of you who have not yet met Siri, it’s a voice recognition application that you can use to operate the latest generation of iPhones.…

In which The Four-Year-Old gains a new appreciation for my age

The Four-Year-Old, interrupting her parents’ discussion of what to do with our out-of-date technology: “Mommyo, do you really have the first Kindle ever made?”

Mommyo, glossing over the fine print* with her usual wild abandon: “Yep. And your Daddyo has the second Kindle ever made.”

The Four-Year-Old, with a gasp: “You’re that old????”

“Why are they called Pomeranians?”

This afternoon, while driving home from a short trip into Brookline, we passed a woman walking a tiny four-legged creature that appeared to be more fur than dog. It was a Pomeranian of course. And although my daughter never quite figured out how to pronounce “Pomeranian” she still wanted to know where the name had come from.

In Which The Four-Year-Old Makes My Life Plan

The Four-Year-Old: “I want to stay alive as long as you are alive, Mommyo.”

Mother: “I want to stay alive as long as you need me.”

The Four-Year-Old, extremely concerned: “You will be very old then.”

In which my daughter puts her dinosaur vocabulary to good use

The Four-Year-Old, watching her mother carve up a roast chicken: “Please can I not eat the chicken, Mommyo?” Mommyo, who is proud of how the chicken…

And The Four-Year-Old’s new favorite color is….

The Four-Year-Old, decisively: “Gold.” Mother, a bit chagrined at how expensive her daughter’s tastes are already getting: “Why?” The Four-Year-Old: “Because it’s rare and it was…