When I was pregnant, other than the growing number on the scale each week, the thing I hated most were parents telling me to ‘get my sleep now’, because essentially, my life as I knew it would be ending. I didn’t hate it because they were lying; sleeping-in is effectively
My father’s father was always telling ‘old’ stories of back in the day. Down by the wharf, on the stoop of his fishing store, or at the supper table.
It didn’t matter where he was, what he was doing or what anyone else was talking about. If he had
I can’t tell you how many times a day I stare at Jack and ask, ‘What does the cow say’? He stares back at me intently, but doesn’t say a word. This is right around the time I go ahead and answer my own question: The cow goes Moo! No
