Word to the wise, formulated during my morning jog: it’s probably not a good idea to give your daughter a vanity plate, or any type of gear for that matter, that says: “Princess.” Because she just may start to believe it. Do you want your daughter to be the princess of your heart? Absolutely. Do …
The other night I held Isaac, our youngest, in my arms. He cooed “Daddy” and stroked my cheeks with his hands, an angelic smile on his lips. Then he stretched his arms back as far as he could and brought his sweaty little palms crashing into my ears. He followed this by maintaining a grip …
Last night we went to The Prairie Rose Chuckwagon supper, where they feed you brisket, beans, and biscuits until you pop, and then sing cowboy songs. Caleb and Eli went in their cowboy gear: big hats, shooting irons guns strapped to their waists, clippity-cloppity little cowboy boots on their feet. Isaac had no guns, just …
I’m the designated bather in our house. Sure, sometimes the wife has to bring it, but on a daily basis, I’m the go-to guy. Okay, I lied a little. We don’t wash our kids every day. With the onslaught of summer this will have to change. These are some grubby, grimy little babies. I plopped …
I found myself on a train to the Atlanta airport weeks ago. There was an aggressive panhandler in my car, the kind who stands right up in your personal space and holds out his hand while mumbling about money for food. He walked like a chicken, his head bobbing and feet shuffling as he went …
