My son once told me the most important thing that happened to him that day while I was elbow-deep in a sink full of dishes, half-listening, saying “mm-hmm” at what I hoped were the right moments. It wasn’t until he’d wandered off that I realized I had no idea what he’d actually said. Something about
My daughter Maya and I do our best talking in that stretch of car ride between the pool and home — her hair still dripping, chlorine smell filling up the whole back seat, radio off because she asked me to turn it off. I’ve never figured out why the car works better than the kitchen
My friend Dana married a guy with two kids — 9 and 12 at the time — and about six weeks in she called me crying, not because anything terrible happened, but because the 9-year-old asked her to pass the ketchup and then said “thank you” in this careful, formal voice, like Dana was a
