We are in the minivan, and Wife notices trees outside a store, trees with leaves made of lights, lights that slowly change color from emerald to scarlet to the richest purple. We’ve all been a bit glum, now that the trees and lights and wreaths have all but disappeared from the city. These trees of light are breathtaking. “It’s boo-tiful,” Baby Isaiah says softly. “Mama, we can dance together.”
Whenever he sees something boo-tiful, his instinct is to dance. I want to be more like him.
This is How You Heal the Wound
The Subdivision
On the Virtues of Peeing Outside
Imagination destruction
The Things We Build
Our Love Affair With Fairs
Curse of the Greedy Copyright Holders
Boy, the Scout Handbook Keeps Changing
Ya Gotta Have (Real) Friends
G.K., Santa, and Me
How Can I Teach My Kids to Work?
Intelligence Designer
Elective
The Glass Child
Name
The Grace I Know
Coming Apart
Uninterested
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Some of you may enjoy my radical suggestion in today’s Wall Street Journal that the First Amendment doesn’t authorize teachers to indoctrinate children. It’s getting
Well, it’s been a hell of a summer. Pestilence, economic destruction, bitter partisanship, and now, the politicians descend from their lairs to commence the quadrennial
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