Happy Halloweekend
by“Every day at Grandma’s is like Halloween,” Master9 told us tonight as we sat around the table decided what to make of our pumpkins…
“Every day at Grandma’s is like Halloween,” Master9 told us tonight as we sat around the table decided what to make of our pumpkins…
Last night I was laughing at Master9’s response to the snippets of Sex Education Miss10 is bringing home from school. Tonight, I want to curl up in a fetal position and join him in a corner.
I’m really excited about the KIVA loan we’ve made this month. It’s one thing to help someone start or improve a business, but this week we’re helping families in Laos improve their water quality.
“Can I quit school?” Master9 asked his mother tonight.
Our boy loves school. He’s generally the first dressed and keen to get there in the morning. So this was a bit of a startling revelation
Is there anything wrong with paying kids to read books?
“Don’t play with your food,” is something I distinctly remember hearing my parents say to me when I was a child. Which is why I’m a little bit surprised by developments this week.
I was only just thinking the other day, you know what the world needs more of? Mother’s guilt.
My little boy is growing up. He now demands two sandwiches for lunch. But it’s not because he’s getting any taller…
Is there anything scarier than finding something physically amiss with your kid?
“All we need to do,” I told my wife, “is buy an old table and cut the legs down. I’ve got a saw!” Anyone who’s ever seen or heard about my efforts with a hammer is now shuddering involuntarily.
Grandad is in trouble. Again.
I’m rarely surprised in this house but tonight I witnessed something I think there is no a precedent for – my wife giving one of our kids a snack before dinner.
You ever have those nights when you can’t be buggered picking out a book to read? Tonight was one of those nights. Again. So instead of having a story read to them, I made one up.
“Dad! Dad! DAD!” came the collective screams from the kitchen. I shot off the bed and raced for the door. Several reasons for this outburst had automatically started channel surfing through my imagination – all of them involving, at best, an ambulance: none of them coming close to the real reason they were yelling.
“We’ve got to go!” I called out to our school aged kids. Suddenly there was a flurry of activity. Not. The dog glanced up briefly.