3 mins read

The Gift Of Play

When my siblings and I were kids growing up in Washington DC in the 1970s, afterschool activities meant playing kickball or exploring Battery Kemble Park with a few dozen other elementary school children, unsupervised by adults. Christmas presents for the luckiest families meant toys, books and stuffed animals. We never saw a flash card or…

3 mins read

I used to think I was a good mom.

Until my sweet 12-year-old daughter starting surreptitiously videotaping me with her phone. She chooses random, boring daily moments when Im not posing or even paying attention. And then she plays them back to me, her face deadpan, like a lawyer presenting irrefutable evidence to the Supreme Court justices. Me telling her (for the five hundredth time in one night) to brush her teeth before bed. Me explaining why I am, and any self-respecting female …