Mirrored from Dailies.

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Sasquatch child, at home

Seriously, look at the feet on that kid.

Mirrored from Dailies.

Last night the same grandparents who had just given her a dollar for the afikomen handed her a loaded Easter basket … and this morning, I’m making a few of the hot cross buns with stars of David on them, for good measure.

Pascal was a piker; if you’re going to hedge your bets, you should frickin hedge your bets.

Also, I’ve never seen a kid who seems to like matzoh as avidly as this one. Not so much gefilte fish, but she tried uncut horseradish without yelping, which was better than her father did.

Originally published at Dailies. You can comment here or there.

Last night the same grandparents who had just given her a dollar for the afikomen handed her a loaded Easter basket … and this morning, I’m making a few of the hot cross buns with stars of David on them, for good measure.

Pascal was a piker; if you’re going to hedge your bets, you should frickin hedge your bets.

Also, I’ve never seen a kid who seems to like matzoh as avidly as this one. Not so much gefilte fish, but she tried uncut horseradish without yelping, which was better than her father did.

Mirrored from Dailies.

Scene: in the car, driving to a friends’ house

Piper: “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!”
Adam: “What can’t you believe, bug?”
Piper: “I can’t believe that I can’t believe … something.”

Originally published at Dailies. You can comment here or there.

Scene: in the car, driving to a friends’ house

Piper: “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!”
Adam: “What can’t you believe, bug?”
Piper: “I can’t believe that I can’t believe … something.”

Mirrored from Dailies.

Last night, our bed:

became a diner’s order window
Kate frantically posting green slips and me cooking on the line
for two customers, by turns irate and sending back their soup
No tips

became a steel cage sphere
Kate and I standing at the very bottom, our heads perfectly centered
as two motorcycle riders buzzed and revved in arcs around us
No helmets

the fulcrum point of an oscillating teeter-totter
became the stick on which to spin two plates
became the single musical chair
around which we all circled warily,
dawn’s music playing slower and slower,
but not stopping

Originally published at Dailies. You can comment here or there.

Last night, our bed:

became a diner’s order window
Kate frantically posting green slips and me cooking on the line
for two customers, by turns irate and sending back their soup
No tips

became a steel cage sphere
Kate and I standing at the very bottom, our heads perfectly centered
as two motorcycle riders buzzed and revved in arcs around us
No helmets

the fulcrum point of an oscillating teeter-totter
became the stick on which to spin two plates
became the single musical chair
around which we all circled warily,
dawn’s music playing slower and slower,
but not stopping

Mirrored from Dailies.

It’s been a day with a bit more whining and friction than our ideal. But then your kid says something unexpectedly nice to you, and you wind up closing the browser tab with the Google search for “ways to sell my children for scientific experiments.”

Piper, to me, at dinner: “I want you to stay!”
Me: “I’m right here.”
Piper: “… Can I keep you forever?”

Mirrored from Dailies.

“As near as I recall, your sister never projectile-yakked with such … gusto.”

Mirrored from Dailies.

Me to Piper, as we both watch Sydney: “Hey, what do you think Sydney is thinking about?”

Piper: “Something eatable.”