Sprung from my loins…

There are ramifications for encouraging one’s child to pay attention to shit.  For encouraging an awareness of female behaviour and how women are perceived by the media and the world.  At 12 years of age, Rissa has become a dyed-in-the-wool speech pattern cynic. Rissa loves cake decorating shows.  She loves watching people design cakes.  She…

“It hurts when I smile,” says Rissa, as we’re chatting before bed. She’d mentioned it earlier in the evening. “The zit?” I ask commiseratively. “The zit,” she confirms – pointing to the right of her nose.  She then does a Vanna White flourish.  She tilts her head to the side and flashes me her best…

We are coming home late.  The stars are brilliant in the night sky. Rissa says, “I know Orion’s Belt.” I say, “I really only know the Big Dipper.  And maybe the North Star.” “Well, that one?” Rissa says.    “That’s the, um… triangle… and over there is the octagon constellation and that one… is the…

It’s Rissa’s bedtime witching hour, when she winds up instead of down, when she giggles and plays instead of succumbing to slumber. “Psssssssst…. do you see this tiny pocket??  It’s wee!” She has this thing for pockets.  Wee pockets in particular.  She likes to draw your attention to them – to share her love of…

This is the story of how Rissa almost blew chunks on the family room rug. My mothers-in-law came over for dinner the other night.  They brought regular fruit crumble and gluten-free, possibly sugar-free crumble.  David’s Mom is doing the gluten-free thing, I’m doing the gluten-free thing.  The rest of the folks got the sugary-gluteny-oaty-goodness and…