I’ve written a rather uncharacteristically personal piece for MPR this time, about parenting a shy kid when you stand out… Read more Disabled parenting
I was at first overjoyed to finally be working on fiction again. But it has become clear that this story… Read more Ick.
I do not think I am overstating when I say that I have handled having an inexplicable, wildly fluctuating, baffling… Read more Ill-suited
Bob* and I are reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s These Happy Golden Years. Bob is eight. Love is icky; kissing, unspeakable.… Read more Love
Fifth grade is a time, books like Raising Cain tell me, that boys are figuring out what it means to… Read more Helpless
As the years go by, I feel increasingly sheepish about my utter loathing for Valentine’s Day. It seems like such… Read more Finally at peace with my hatred of Valentine’s Day
I have no idea what a non-autistic 10-year-old’s pockets are filled with on laundry day; here is the treasure I… Read more Treasures