“Daddy, do babies have tiny nipples?” my 4-yo, Bodhi, asked me, lounging in a fresh pair of PJs. “Yes,” I answered from the couch, flipping through a magazine.
His thumb hovered just above his full lips, as he continued, “Do 2-yr-olds have bigger nipples than babies?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Do 3-yr-olds have bigger nipples than 2-yr-olds?”
“Do 4-yr-olds have bigger nipples than 3-yd-olds?” This earnest line of inquiry continued through 11-yr-olds, at which point, I belie
“Why is there no 13th floor on that building?” my 5-yr-old son asked, his head tilted back. Sure enough, spray-painted on the side of the tall, fancy, under-construction hotel were large, red numbers for each floor level. They skipped from 12 to 14. “Some people believe 13 is an unlucky number, so some buildings don’t have 13th floors,” I said.
“But why?” my boy pressed. Another vexing inquiry from the objective observer. I’m not superstitious. I’ll swagger under every ladde
Food is magic. We all have that special dish, the one that instantly activates the way-back machine and jumpstarts a potent emotion. What is yours? For me, it’s banana pudding. Whenever we visited my grandparents mobile home on the other side of Florida, my younger brother and I beelined it to the fridge the moment we arrived. There, bathed in cool light on the second shelf, stood neatly arranged cups and cups of pudding. Banana and chocolate. Smooth as velvet and dolloped in
This is My Mom!! My mother was a 1950’s beauty queen. I have a photo to prove it. She kneels atop a real live tortoise. Beneath a palm. One hand placed delicately on the languid creature’s shell. The other waving beside her baby doll smile. She is a curvaceous beauty. The white one-piece a masterstroke. Yet, she was a shy teenager who lacked self confidence she tells me. Not the Miss University of Florida contest type. Peer pressure got the best of her. More than once, this b