I never imagined how amazing having an older child would be. I’m in the sweet spot. Maturity and innocence wrapped into one. And I am loving it.
Forget report cards. No grade can measure who my daughter truly is. She is so far beyond “outstanding” in every way to those who know and love her.
It began with a meeting to discuss my daughter’s learning challenges, a euphemism for the word deficits that was used when I was a boy.
When I decided against redshirting my four-year-old, he had a lot of growing up to do, and he had trouble adjusting to the regimen of school.
My son didn’t want to take the pills, but despite my reservations, I lied and told him they were safe. And because I am his mom, he believed me.