We hit the road for our first Cub Scout camping trip, to Westgate River Ranch, an outdoor oasis in the middle of anonymous, sprawling scrubland — a wonderland of vast fields, bulls standing sternly at fences daring you to come just a little closer, a rodeo arena with its dazzling orange dirt, a saloon, all on the wide and wild Kissimmee River. Other than a lesson on the joys of being immersed in the outdoors while with a couple hundred outstanding people, here’s what we learned: Continue reading “Riding bulls and inhaling bugs: 10 Lessons from Cub Scout ranch-camping”
I let my 6-year-old shoot an air rifle for the first time on Sunday. Later that day, the worst mass shooting in modern U.S. history took place.
Talk about giving a liberal dude some doubts. Continue reading “Even after the Vegas carnage, I’m glad I let my kid shoot”
Two weeks ago, Quinn and Sawyer, who have birthdays 18 days apart, got a butterfly kit as a gift from their aunt: two cups with five caterpillars each, with tan muck at the bottom that they eat. Continue reading “The Brief Life of Butterfly Number 2”
I was just on a flight and sat next to a guy and his son. The boy looked about 5, close to the age of my older son. As we chatted, the dad reminded me of me: thoughtful but not doting, attentive but still keen on carving time out for himself. He’d been watching a movie on an iPad while his son played a game on his iPad. Continue reading “I saw myself in seat 37F. It wasn’t pretty.”
This morning Quinn got up barely past dawn and immediately asked for markers and white paper. He wordlessly sat down at the art table. Half an hour later he’d finished a book of ‘Dsins.’*
A smell hung in the air. I looked at Sawyer. Continue reading “Adventures in potty-training”
I turned on the heat and smeared some olive oil on the pan, added a patty of chicken sausage, cooked a scrambled egg, added cheese and gave it all to Sawyer. Ten seconds passed.
‘I done.’ Continue reading “Tom’s Diner”