The sweetness of six-year-olds
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…
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…
cam·ou·flage [kam-uh-flahzh]: noun* the act, means, or result of obscuring things to deceive an enemy concealment by some means that alters or obscures the appearance a…
Overheard in the bike lock aisle of our local Target on a recent Saturday… Mommyo, sentimentally: “Daddyo, fourteen years ago today we were packing for our…
Daddyo, interrupting his interpretative reading of The Hardy Boys’ The Mark on the Door, “Mommyo, you have to look at this. It’s the world’s longest dash.”…
Daddyo to the driver of the gold Jaguar cutting him off on I-90 in the midst of Chicago rush hour traffic: “Oh sure, bring your expensive…
The Six-Year-Old, diving into her fifth Diary of Wimpy Kid novel in as many days, “Mommyo, I never used to read long books but then I…
With another birthday just a few days away, it’s time for the annual airing of my cranky old lady persona. I’ve broken out the cat-themed jigsaw…
While passing through Pennsylvania on our recent road trip, Mommyo, pointing: “Now that’s a decrepit old barn.” The Six-Year-Old, enlightened: “Oh! So that’s what decrepit means!”…
On a recent Saturday afternoon, The Six-Year-Old and her father were tucked up on our couch reading The Tower Treasure (Hardy Boys #1) by Franklin W.…
The caffeine consumption at Caterpickles Central has gone up considerably since we decided to move to Chicago. Mommyo’s alone has more than doubled. Naturally, The Six-Year-Old…