The stop sign just up the street from our house does more than control vehicle traffic. It controls a little piece of my kids’ lives. A stop sign should add an element of predictability to the cars passing by. It should slow them down. It should make drivers more aware of pedestrians and the kids who swarm the neighborhood.
It doesn’t.
If anything it makes traffic less predictable. If…
Cheryl is with Adam today at the Magic Kingdom, outside of Orlando. Around here this is nothing special, particularly for the last year. A little over a year ago we cashed in a few years of reward points on our Chase Disney Visa Card and bought annual passes. The kids have loved it. It’s meant almost unlimited Disney. We’ve used every discretionary dollar to indulge their inner mouse…
You’ll be happy to know I’m a passive passenger (or maybe you won’t care). It’s an irrefutable fact. I am every driver’s dream. I do not speak unless spoken to. I am blessed with innate, directional savvy, but I only share it upon request. Most importantly, I am willing to travel in the back seat. Not only am I willing, it was my idea.
Increasingly, our thirteen year…
What can I say? Both my kids continue their run of academic stardom. It feels like a source of (partial) absolution for my personal failings, seeing my DNA has some value.
Beth continues to excel, outpacing all the other kids in her class. I just wish it brought her peace. While it was an asset when she was the oldest kid last year (her small school has mixed grade classrooms), there’s a…
A few weeks ago, heresy showed it’s ugly face in the Kauffman household. Evil found a foothold in one of my vulnerable children. By now you know that when I speak of heresy I’m speaking of one thing: computers. Beth asked for a cheap Windows laptop.
In the name of Jobs, The Woz, and The Lost Partner, I beseech you: where have I gone wrong?
Because my parents were over at the time, my…
Another Friday of fatigue. Another drive to Orlando. Another day in the world that Walt built.
My sister called on Thursday to warn us about the epidemic of colds working its way through the house. The implied message: “John comes at his own risk.”
But when have I ever given in to good sense?
We hit the parks with my standard equipment: a big floppy hat, sunglasses, my Nikon, and my…
Maybe it’s his small body. Maybe it’s just hardwired into a four year old boy.
Adam is showing an early flair for maneuvering, pattern recognition, and tactics. I think he’s worked out every long approach to a padded landing in the house. “Adam, no running!” comes out of my mouth on autopilot, like “God bless you” when someone sneezes. It comes out a…
Adam’s had a bike in waiting almost from the day he was born (a hand-me-down from a friend). It spent a lot of its time neglected on the front porch – until one afternoon I decided its time was nearing. Then it came inside to live with its brother and sisters.
This weekend I mustered enough enthusiasm and energy to take Adam for a helmet fitting and drag out my repair stand and tools.