The existentialist Six-Year-Old
A week or two ago, The Six-Year-Old caught a rather impressive cold. One night at bedtime, The Six-Year-Old snuffled up to her father. “Daddyo, what can…
A week or two ago, The Six-Year-Old caught a rather impressive cold. One night at bedtime, The Six-Year-Old snuffled up to her father. “Daddyo, what can…
Recently, The Six-Year-Old discovered the 1973 animated Star Trek series on Netflix. Her favorite episode, naturally, is More Tribbles, More Troubles. Her next favorite is any…
While writing my post for Wordless Wednesday, I came across this classic Caterpickle from two years ago. The Four-Year-Old is just so darn funny, I couldn’t…
The Six-Year-Old, taking a pause from singing along to Gaelic Storm’s “Raised on Black and Tans” on a recent roadtrip: “I feel a strange kick in…
The Six-Year-Old, on our walk to school yesterday morning: “Uh oh. It’s raining tribbles.” Mommyo: “Better duck.” The Six-Year-Old, curiously: “Why?” Mommyo: “I don’t want to…
The other day The Six-Year-Old asked if she could write a letter to Congress. We said sure. Here’s what came back: Transcript: Dear: Government. You are…
One of the benefits of packing up your family and moving 2000 miles away from everyone your daughter has ever known is that in this highly…
The Six-Year-Old, politely: “Mommyo, can I tell you something?” Mommyo, warmly: “Of course.” The Six-Year-Old, informatively: “Spaying works on tribbles, but not neutering.” Mommyo, carefully: “OK.”…
The construction paper may be thick on the ground here at Caterpickles Central, but willing workers aren’t. How can a frustrated mother get her six-year-old to pick up after herself without complaining?
Yesterday, as we were driving home from a highly satisfactory dinner at Horse Thief Hollow*, we passed a softball field in the middle of a not-yet-known-to-me…