… are of this scrumptious butterball of a nephew opening gifts.Because he just couldn’t get enough of his stuffed doggy, to whom he kept feeding his beloved ball. And every time I raised the camera, he would charge my way and try to lunge into the lens with the most adorable serious face. Plus, he was at that perfect age where he was a pro at opening gifts- all gifts. Old enough to really love tearing that paper, but not so old that he felt territorial about whatever was inside. He helped all of us open our gifts, gleefully loosening paper and grinning at the object, and then wandering off to take another dive at the Christmas tree or smother something in hugs. BABY IN ADULT SHOES AND FOOTIE PAJAMAS. I can’t even deal. And this hat, that he gleefully would pull over his eyes and then dance around like he had discovered the most magical thing ever, which in turn created the most magical thing ever. But really, the best part was watching my family with baby William, the first baby of the family, the one who might just have “baby” attached to his name until he gets married. That kid knew that every person in that house was ready to play, to throw him in the air, to share their toys and laugh at his antics. Watching everyone made me so thrilled to be bringing a baby into this family, full of uncles, aunts, grandparents, and one round-bellied cousin who already love him or her. I can’t wait to have a baby to toss into the middle of this crazy pack of people I love, knowing they will be caught by many sets of loving arms.
- "Art rediscovers, generation by generation, what is necessary to humanness. " -John Gardner
Lately, on InstagramI recently pried an entire scoop of mud and 2 rocks from Etta’s mouth but girlfriend will not tolerate a single bite of ANY fruit. She acts like strawberries are straight poison, but recently downed 3 tacos that the rest of us deemed too spicy. She loves broccoli, hates blueberries. One thing I have learned as a parent: you cannot make a child eat. So about a year ago, I stopped fighting meal battles. I choose what to offer and when, they choose what to eat and how much. That’s it. Don’t like dinner? Get comfy till breakfast. And you know what? When I stop fighting, they stop resisting, and we all eat better. Because here’s the thing: I would eat exclusively tacos if I could, and I also only like my drink in one specific cup. I get it, the pickiness. Learning to eat is part of learning to live, and when I recognized that my job is about forming and responding to habits and tastes, instead of forcing the right number of calories in- it is so freeing. I do not always have a healthy relationship with food, and I desperately want that for my kids. What are the parenting battles that you find it better (not to be confused with easier!), not to fight? [Best tacos in the city are these, from @tacobamba ]Home is where they are. Also the place that we just committed to paying for over the next 30 years.