Peter Pan

Dear Max, Last week you announced out of the blue and in a choking voice that you don’t want to grow up. “I like it here. I love you and dad. I like being with you. . . I don’t want to move away.” You said it quietly, afraid to open the...

War

When Max announced last fall that he wanted a war birthday party and that he wanted Michael and Matt – two high schoolers – I said great.  I honestly thought he would change his mind after 8 months OR that it would morph into something else.  Not that I...

Milestones

I like to be prepared – it’s a part of my personality; I’ve taken the test so it’s official.  I like a plan and when appropriate a plan B.  If knowledge is power, I want a hemi dura-max diesel ifyouknowwhatImean. That’s why I read every...

Montage Monday Ocho

Eight. Max is eight. Jac and I pondered this fact the night before the big day, marveling at how it can be so.  Then he froze and, lowering his voice a little, proclaimed, “Duuude.  We’re old.” Pshaw.  Whatever, clever.  You’re only as old as...

Graceful

I walked through today as if in a dream. Max made his first confession today. How could that be?  How is it that he is old enough to do this, to receive this sacrament?  I kept remembering how, before we were even married, Jac and I dreamed and hoped and planned for...