Tag: parenting

Standing Up for Democracy: Lessons from Kids

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“To understand where you stand in own your life, you cannot remain seated.” – Christine E. Szymanski

I can rely on my kids to have a nose for what’s authentic. At 6 and 10 years old, they might not be able to tell me exactly why, but they can tell the difference between people who are phoning it in and others who are genuinely present.

At the end of the day this past Saturday, I asked them what they liked most about the day and what they could have done better. It’s part of our nighttime routine. Unless we are so tired that we’ve flipped our lids. That happens sometimes too.

They both answered that their favorite part when we went down to the little lake that is a five minute walk from our house and participated in a Stand Up For Democracy event. The organizers were trying to gather enough people to create a continuous loop of people to encircle the lake which is three miles in circumference.

What surprised me about the answer was they liked that even more than watching the Mariners down at the pub with our friend, Eric. Or playing with their friends, skateboarding, or building imaginary spaceships.

My kids can’t yet spell out the details of what makes a democracy, monarchy, or autocracy. But they can tell the good feeling of standing up for what matters and the sense of community that comes from people trying to quietly show their commitment. It’s authentic, it’s strong, and it feels better than worry.

I think they’ve got that right.

(featured photo is mine)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast about collaboration – sharing leads to success.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

Life Begins Now: The Parenting Trap

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“It still amazes me that we insist on teaching algebra to all students when only about 20 percent will ever use it and fail to teach anything about parenting when the vast majority of our students will become parents.” – Nel Noddings

My dad used to tell this joke: Three religious leaders were asked the question, “When does life begin?”

The Catholic priest said, “At conception.“

The Protestant pastor replied, “At birth.“

The Rabbi answered, “When the last kid goes to college and the dog dies.“

I’m laughing. Wow do I feel this. As a parent of young children, I do more things in a day that I wouldn’t choose to do than things I would choose. That alone can make me feel as if my life is not my own. Add in the noise and chaos and it’s hard to find peace. Taken all together, that can make this phase of life seem like one to rush through.

 But I know I can’t assume that I’ll be able to enjoy my kids when they are mature adults. I had my kids when I was aged 46 and then 50. When my youngest is 30, I’ll be 80-years-old. Hopefully an alive, healthy, and active 80 years old but nothing is a given. I know that’s true at any age.

So I try to flip the punchline and enjoy my kids, and life, now.

Cleaning up messes

Things in my house are spilled nearly every day. Sometimes by me. Often not very big deals like when a glass of milk with a top on spilled the other day. It just left a corona of milk dotting the carpet.

Here’s the thing I’ve realized. It’s a chance to convey to my dear children that I’ll love them when things are messy.

Bonus points: Longevity specialist Dr. Peter Attia includes getting up from the floor with max of one arm for support on his Centenarian Decathlon list. It includes the ten most important physical tasks you will want to be able to do for the rest of your life. Every time I’m down on the floor cleaning, I celebrate working out the strength and neuromuscular control that I need.

Helping with personal hygiene

It’s funny that kids don’t come with personal hygiene habits baked in. I’d prefer not to have to remind others to brush their teeth or wipe their tush. Add a dog, cat and a crested gecko in the mix and I can pretty much guarantee that most days will have some involvement in someone else’s hygiene.

I love this one because it’s foundational to my outlook. It’s forced me as a congenital optimist, to accept that every day is not going to be perfect, comfortable, or even pretty.

And long after I’m gone, I can trust my kids will have some idea of how to keep their bodies safe.

Bonus points: My personal hygiene has suffered as a parent. Kudos to me when I remember to take care of myself as well.

Feeding them

There are some days where I make food, clean up from making food, only to find that by that time, more food is already required.

But, whether real or metaphorical, I’d argue that giving others fuel to live by is what we are here for.

Bonus points: This is a reminder that cooking is all about exercising our creative muscles. How can I make something when I realize I’m missing an ingredient? How do I make something that’ll last with what I have?

Melt downs

Oh, those moments when big emotions take over and make us uncomfortable. And by us, I mean not only the person melting down but also everyone close at hand. It can be precarious, unpredictable, and draining. It’s also 100% real.

Recently, I took my kids rock climbing. My six-year-old son got stuck halfway up the rock face. He couldn’t find a way past – not moving right or left or shifting his weight. He started to cry. Since I was belaying him, there was nothing I could do except be there with him. And it was the perfect metaphor because I was connected to him by a rope.

From 40 feet away, I shouted up my empathy for his frustration, tried some suggestions, told him he could come down, emphasized that I knew he could do it – everything I could do to help from afar. Finally he shook it off. Then he managed the coolest move — palming the rock with his right hand and smearing the face with his left foot, he leveraged himself up high enough to the next good hold.

It was as rousing of a feat of personal triumph as I’ve ever witnessed.

Here’s where you get to pick your image: port in the storm, rope anchor on a mountain, sacred ground – you have the chance to be that for someone else. And to learn a little bit about what it kicks off in you as well. We don’t often get to see adults do that – the trying, melt down, return and overcoming is usually a longer (and more hidden) process for grown-up risks and triumphs. There is nothing as powerful as watching someone overcome some real adversity. With young kids we get to see that nearly every day.

And then we get to celebrate their success.

Bonus points: It’s hard to stay regulated when someone else is dysregulated. Whether it’s my verbal 10-year-old daughter talking grown-up sounding sass that covers for her childlike emotions underneath or a stranger at the store, I feel it all the way through. But all this practice is helping my central nervous system to be buff!

Distraction

When awake and nearby, my kids provide continual distraction. I could be inside sitting at my computer typing and instead I’m out in a creek skipping rocks. Or I could be sitting on the couch with my phone in hand texting and instead I’m having a dance party and moving my hips. I hunt for snails and hold my kids’ hands while they learn to hoverboard.

Oh, that’s right – I’ve never once regretted a dance party, a rock skipping contest, time in nature, or moving my body.

Bonus points. Psychologist Dr. Alison Gopnik says that kids have lantern brain. They see everything that is around. Adults have spotlight brain – we focus on what needs to be done. Switching into lantern brain can help us solve problems, be creative, and open us to new insights. The distractions can actually help us with solutions for our work when we return to it.

Invasion of personal space

Yesterday my six-year-old son stuffed something in the pocket of my jeans. Gah.  

I’m all for enforcing the boundaries necessary to maintain healthy relationships. But before I decide what those boundaries are, I consider that my kids embody what we look like as open creatures that assume other people will help you carry your stuff.

Bonus points: Ask someone else to help you carry your stuff.

Time

I’m the only one that cares about time in my house. Being on time, getting to bed, the school bell is about to ring, dinner time, time for annual physicals, or it’s about time. All of it.

Because I’m the one that understands time is limited.

Bonus points: Stop caring about the future and enjoy the now.

I’m not guaranteed to get to 80 years old. But I bet that if I do, parenting will have extended my healthspan so that I enjoy it more. And I know I’ll be glad that I didn’t wait until the kids went to college and the dog died to begin living.

(featured photo is mine)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast about collaboration – sharing leads to success.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

The Rope Team

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“Sometimes life is too hard to be alone, and sometimes life is too good to be alone.” – Elizabeth Gilbert

When I was climbing mountains, I noticed a funny thing when we roped up on the higher slopes of a mountain. We transformed from being individual hikers to becoming a team. The physical manifestation made a psychological difference.

Fortunately, I’ve never had to arrest the fall of someone else while on a rope team. But I have willingly climbed into a crevasse. It made me immensely grateful for the people above holding on to the rope.

A similar team phenomenon happened to me and my kids a couple of weeks ago when we were on vacation.

It was perfectly smooth when the kids and I decided to go paddleboarding after dinner. But by the time we got our paddleboards into the water, it was starting to blow again.

We’d been paddling every day for ten days to get the feel for the tides and current. At the beginning of the vacation, six-year-old Mr. D was paddling with me riding on the back of his board. Once he’d gotten proficient enough with his strokes, he graduated to be on his own.

So Mr D was on his own paddleboard. Ten-year-old Miss O had decided she just wanted to ride along on mine. On this night, Mr. D wanted to go all the way down the bay to the pirate flag, a notable marker about a mile down the beach from where we launched.

When we were about halfway there, the wind was present but not too much of a factor. We held a family meeting to make sure we wanted to continue. Mr. D had looked at that flag for 10 days and was determined to get there.

We celebrated momentarily when we reached the pirate flag. Then Mr. D said he was tired and just wanted to rest. At nearly the same moment, the wind whipped up and started pushing us farther away from home.

I said aloud, mostly for Miss O’s benefit, “Please, God, help us.” We weren’t in immediate danger but it was going to be a hard paddle back. At any point, we could have paddled 20 yards to the to the beach and walked back. It would have been a slog pulling the boards but it was a viable option.

Miss O got philosophical about how we ask God for help. We weren’t asking for it to be easy – just for help in any form. As it was, Miss O volunteered to get on Mr. D’s board to both give it more weight and to paddle.

Even with the two of them, they were being pushed backwards by wind. So I attached my leash to their board and we paddled back as a team. I paddled on my board, Miss O and Mr. D took turns paddling on theirs. Roped together, we slowly made our way home.

The overall feeling when we hit the beach? Gratitude. Thank God Miss O had opted to ride along and had fresh arms. Thank God she made the transfer from one board to another without mishap. Thank God for making us a team.

Because that was what stuck with us. Just like with climbing, roping together turned paddling into a team building exercise -and it worked. There are so many ways we are buffeted by the winds of life. A team can make all the difference.

(featured photo is mine)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast about collaboration – in our families, friendships, at work and in the world.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

And for anyone curious about the inside of a crevasse, here’s what it looks like:

It’s On Us

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“In true dialogue both sides are willing to change.” – Thich Nhat Hanh

“It’s on me.” I was explaining my parenting approach to my neighbors who telling me a story about their daughter. They were mid-sentence in talking about how their son-in-law travels leaving their daughter with three kids. Then they realized I am always alone with my kids and the story died mid-way through.

I laughed it off and explained that I think it’s easier not having to adjust to absence. I’ve seen this reaction with other parents who start to complain to me about being left with the kids and then end up apologizing to me. No need – I chose to parent alone when I had my kids by IVF and I’ve known from day one that it’s on me.

What I find interesting is the balance that I’ve had to find – or tried to find. I can’t be too touchy feely because I also have to be the disciplinarian. Mind you, I’m still pretty touchy feely but it’s tempered me a bit.

I’ve observed this sometimes with my parenting couple friends. One can be the “fun” parent knowing that the other parent will bring order. Or someone can be the “let’s spend money” parent knowing that the other will temper it with budgets. And sometimes when things get out of hand, the non-involved one absolves themselves saying, “well, they started it, they can see it through.”

Of course it goes beyond parenting. When there’s two, there’s an interplay that brings middle ground. One optimist and one pessimist. One adventurer and one safety-minded. One extravert and one introvert.

Being a single parent has made me more aware of the ways we can be extreme. Sure, we can make a mess, but knowing I’ll be the one to lead the clean-up keeps it in check. Sure, we can use our stockpiles (of food, art supplies, money, whatever), but knowing I’ll have to refill them makes me more conscious of the effort involved.

It makes me wonder if our cities, states, and countries would be better off if we all were Democans, Twigs, or whatever the country equivalent. Or at least behaved as if we were between elections. Would we do less of a pendulum swing if we knew we were the ones responsible for tempering it? I think we’d do more advocating for each cause we’re passionate about and less sitting back and bitching when it’s not “our guy” in office.

I’m sure I’m not the first person to suggest this. Well, here’s to remembering our responsibility in every arena and knowing it’s on us.

(featured photo from Pexels)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast about collaboration – in our families, friendships, at work and in the world.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

Be Kind

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“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” – Plato

We’ve been attending a lot of kids birthday parties recently. Five-year-old Mr. D said to me, “Mama, seeing kids gets presents at their birthdays makes me feel jealous.”

I replied, “That’s understandable.” I thought about saying something about generosity, grace. or friendship. Instead, I decided to tell story of my own.

A couple of weeks ago, I was walking Cooper the dog in the neighborhood and I noticed that our neighbors have two new nice cars. I like this family a great deal so I felt a small stab of envy but not in a snarky way.

A couple days later, I ran into the mom of this family. I asked how she was. She answered that she and her husband were flying down to California to get her 20-year-old son’s stuff from college. He was diagnosed with lymphoma over the holiday break and is starting treatment soon. Damn. Damn. Damn.

As I gave her a hug and my deep felt and sincerest best wishes, I thought of my recent pang of envy. Everyone is going through something. Perhaps it only depends if we are close enough and trustworthy enough to know what it is.

I told a simplified version of this story to my kids. I’m not sure they got a lot out of it because they don’t yet quite understand that people have layers like onions, to quote Shrek. It may be years or decades before they fully comprehend that even though we always want new “stuff,” that isn’t what truly matters.

But I figured we can at least start the conversation now. I suspect we all need the reminder. I know I do.

(featured photo from Pexels)

You can find me on Instagram @wynneleon and LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/

I co-host a storytelling podcast featuring authors and artists with the amazing Vicki Atkinson. To tune in, search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music or Pocketcasts (and subscribe) or click here. Or the YouTube channel features videos of our interviews. Please subscribe!

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about creativity and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

Things About Parenting I Think I’ve Learned So Far, Part 2

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“Children learn more from what you are than what you teach.” – W.E.B. Dubois

It’s been a couple of years since I originally compiled a list of what I thought I knew. As I sit down to write this update, I realize that the richness of parenting comes with a lot of doubt. What works one day with one kid doesn’t necessarily work the next with another.

So in the spirit of admitting that I don’t really know anything, but still keep trying, here’s what I think I’ve learned about parenting recently.

Don’t interrupt a child trying to tie their shoes.

Once they talk like adults, it’s harder to remember that they don’t have the brain development to go along with the vocabulary.
Remembering that BEFORE I speak is what comes with maturity

It takes a lot of food to support those growing brains. One trick is to teach them to cook.
Anything they participate in making tastes better.

Once they are out of car seats, it’s much easier to get IN the car.
But it’s harder to get TO the car.

Motivation is touchy – too much pressure and they zing out of control. Too little pressure and they don’t move. It’s like coaxing an element from solid to liquid form so be careful with the Bunson Burner.

Many clues about the internal state can be discerned by listening. As Lawrence Cohen said, “Children don’t say ‘I had a hard day, can we talk?’ They say, ‘Will you play with me?‘”

Growth is not a straight line.

Some issues will solve themselves without parental involvement. Learn to hang back.

Confidence and independence go hand-in-hand. But both start from the heart. When we believe they can, they do too.

Listening to what a child observes is one of the most rewarding parts of parenting. When they report on a purple house, the first star at night, or the sound of a bird as it taps on a wire, stop everything to take it in.

I still haven’t solved the sock problem. They get stuffed behind the pillow, under the couch, in my purse, and on the porch. Most mystifying, or maddening, is when they end up back with the clean socks.

There will be things that drive you crazy. Like the socks. Or the last half hour before bedtime.
Coping with parenting is like looking at an optical illusion where you can see the old lady with the big chin or the young lady with a hat.
Pick the perspective that fills you with joy.  

Be gentle. Be calm. Be kind. And that includes to yourself.

Riding bikes to the ice cream shop always improves the mood.

There are many different types of closeness. But one definition, proximity, helps to create a lot of the other types.
Being proximate and close means you’ll sometimes feel the sting of growing pains. Understanding that’s what it is will help to salve the sting.

Other people’s emotions can be hard to handle.
That circular relationship of handling my emotions about their emotions is instrumental to growing up… for me and for them.

Learning is almost always messy.

This is clearly a personal call but maybe clean less than you think you should and play more than you think you should.

The amount of time you spend playing with your kids when they are young and you are old and busy has a relationship to how much time they spend with you when you are old and they are grown and busy.

When kids are parked in their big spaces, proud and confident, they act better.
Being someone who helps move the mindset from small and whiny to big and empowered is tricky…and powerful!

Dreams are precious. Just listen.

(featured photo is my kids and me after biking in the rain. Thanks to Dave Williams for his edits to take the names off the helmets).

You can find me on Instagram @wynneleon and LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/

I co-host a storytelling podcast featuring authors and artists with the amazing Vicki Atkinson. To tune in, search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music or Pocketcasts (and subscribe) or click here. Or the YouTube channel features videos of our interviews. Please subscribe!

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about creativity and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

The Love You Can’t Wipe Off

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“How bold one gets when one is sure of being loved.” – Sigmund Freud

One morning last week, I gave five-year-old Mr. D a kiss on the cheek as he was getting out of the car at school. He turned and said, “Sometimes I wipe your kisses off.” I laughed and then he jumped out of the car and ran to join his class line.

I was still laughing when this retort popped to mind: “Nice try but the mark of love doesn’t wipe away that easily.”

It’s in the clean clothes you have to wear. And packed with the lunch I’ve taken the time to try to balance nutrition with edibility.

It’s with the reading practice we did last night so you can feel more confident today. And in the jobs I let you “help” with to gain a since of accomplishment.

Love is in the echo of you saying “My best mom in the world” when we snuggle on the couch in the morning.

It’s in the tilt of your head when you speak because you know you are worth being listened to.

And it’s in the even-handed way you treat other people and the dog and cat with curiosity and companionship.

We don’t have everything and sometimes butt heads, but love shows up to help smooth out our edges.

Love is in your knowledge that you can tell me that you wipe my kisses off. And that I’ll still keep trying on your way out the door.

Certainty for Today

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“May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” – Nelson Mandela

My internet browser keeps trying to bait me to find out who I’m voting for 2024 election. It presents headlines from one side or another to see what I’ll click on.

From my point of view, I don’t want to click because I don’t want it to feed me what I want to hear. It’s not that I’m uninterested or uninformed. In these days before this hotly contested election, I’d love to have some certainty. But not at the price of wrong information and expectations that will lead to disappointment.

So instead I’ve made my list of the things I’m fairly certain will happen today:

The sun will rise and set.
That I’ll feel moments of awe, angst, and amusement.

Cooper the dog will put something in his mouth that he’s not supposed to.

And I’ll eat a little or a lot of Halloween candy.

Miss O and Mr. D will make me laugh
and some toys will be played with.

I will not make it through my to-do list.
But I will accomplish enough of my must-love list.

We’ll learn something, spill something, and read something.
One kid, or both, will anger the other and apologies will have to be made.

That amidst the rush and hustle of daily life with a nine-year-old and a five-year-old,
I’ll feel the overwhelming gratitude and love that I was able to choose to have this family
Using IVF.

And that’s why I never needed to open my browser to figure out which way to vote. I voted for Kamala Harris so that other families can choose, if they need to, to have days filled with the same types of certainties I’m likely to have today.

Do You Believe in Magic? Do You Write About it?

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“If we could see the world through the eyes of a child, we would see the magic in everything.” – Nancy Wait

I had to have the conversation with my eight-year-old daughter the other day. You know the one I mean? About Santa?

We were driving in the car and I broached the subject as “Do you want to talk about what your friend said the other day about Santa?”

Two days before I’d overheard her friend tell her that Santa wasn’t real. Then the friend took on the tooth fairy too when my daughter had asked, “Do you know your tooth fairy’s name?”

Her friend, a master of short, declarative sentences, replied with a snort, “Yeah, Mom and Dad.”

All of this led to my tentative query in the car. Quite honestly, I was feeling pretty shaky about it. It felt like blurting out something that we can never “unknow” even if we wish to. So, I’d come up with a spin that I got from a dubious parenting manual (and by that, I mean the Internet). I was going to talk about how we can all be part of the magic of the holiday season.

I find it difficult bordering on tortuous to write about and talk about magic. I think of some of my favorite South American authors like Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Juan Luis Borges, and their easy touch with things that can’t be explained.

Then I wonder if some American pragmatism blocks my flow when it comes to breaking away from the observable. Or perhaps it’s my engineering brain. But either way when I start trying to put words to experiences that can’t be rationally explained, I get very wordy. It’s like I need to insist that I really am anchored to reality and a lot of words are my lifeline.

So, when my daughter said she did want to talk about Santa, I started to roll out a lengthy explanation.

“Well, you know that everyone has different beliefs and whether or not you believe in Santa, there’s a magic around Christmas time that comes from the spirit of generosity.”

She nodded and said, “Yes, no one really knows what Santa looks like, so we all see it differently.”

I pressed on, not realizing that she was still pretty attached to the Santa thing.

Before I could launch into more, she interjected, “Why don’t people want to believe in magic?”

Hmm, in my preparation for the talk, I hadn’t prepared a good answer to that one, so I asked about if she’d heard what her friend said about the tooth fairy.

“Yes,” she said, “he said his Mom and Dad were the tooth fairy.” As I started to respond, my daughter continued, explaining something the tooth fairy had just done…”but my mom wouldn’t give [my brother] a two-dollar bill for nothing.”

I stopped. I was magically saved from having a conversation that I wasn’t ready for anyway.

2024 Note: Miss O is now 9-years-old but still believes…

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Case for Non-Competition

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“A head full of fears has no space for dreams.” – unknown

I can’t get Miss O to put down the guitar. I know that’s a funny thought – why would I want to?

Here’s the situation. My nine-year-old daughter, Miss O, has a gift for music. She has nearly perfect pitch so that if she hears something, she can play it. And she’s learned piano from my mom, ukelele from YouTube videos, started clarinet in the school band, and also sings in a choir.

She’s practiced these things, and my mom has been a fantastic teacher, but mostly she has enough natural ability that she makes it look easy.

All good – until Mr. D wanted to learn to play the guitar. We have a little one that we picked up at a garage sale that was missing three strings. I ordered some replacement strings and voila, Mr. D had an instrument that he could carry around and try.

He’s not really wanting to formally learn anything quite yet. He’s five years old. But he likes putting the strap around his neck and strumming. I found a chord on YouTube and went to show it to him – he didn’t want to do it. But Miss O was standing right there and said, “Can I do it?”

Of course, she picked it up easily. So I asked her not to play the guitar. To give her younger brother some space so he can have a thing that is his own. She nodded her agreement – and then by 30 minutes later had circled back to try to play it.

So I gave her a longer explanation about why that can be discouraging to her brother. She gave it a rest for about a half a day.

When I found her with it at the end of the next day, I started again tiredly. She yelled, “So I can never pick it up and strum it?” And because nuance didn’t seem to be working, I said emphatically, “Yes!” and she angrily stomped off.

At bedtime, I told the kids the story about when Mr. D was 2-years-old and had the cutest little Hawaiian shirt. I dressed him in it every time we went to a party and everyone oohed and aahed, “What a cute baby!”

So Miss O said to me, “I hate it when he wears that shirt. He gets so much attention.” I explained that what I did to help wasn’t to get her the same shirt – or buy them both a new outfit that matched each other. I helped her find a new dress and shoes so she could feel good about what she was wearing – on the inside –even if she didn’t get all the compliments the baby did.

I summed it up that sometimes we just need to give each other space. That competing or comparing, especially over time, can often undercut someone’s confidence.

I must have flubbed the ending. Because at the end of the story, Mr. D wanted that shirt and Miss O said, “I knew I wasn’t going to like that story.“

I left the bedroom with two grumpy kids still pouting. I was frustrated because I couldn’t fix it. It struck me that we were all too close on this one – perhaps telling the story when we were all together wasn’t the right timing. Or that we just needed some time. Or that bedtime wasn’t a good time to tackle this. All of the above, I suspect.

And that is why my guitar gently weeps. From under the couch where I hid it.