Housework Is A Treadmill From Futility To

I Will Never Understand Children. I Never Pretended To. I Meet Mothers All The Time Who Make Resolutions To Themselves. 'i'm Going To ... Go Out Of My Way To Show Them I Am Interested In Them And What They Do. I Am Going To Understand My Children.' These Women End Up Making Rag Rugs, Using Blunt Scissors.

I Was A Closet Pacifier Advocate. So Were Most Of My Friends. Unknown To Our Mothers, We Owned Thirty Or Forty Of Those Little Suckers That Were Placed Strategically Around The House So A Cry Could Be Silenced In Less Than Thirty Seconds. Even Though Bottles Were Boiled, Rooms Disinfected, And Germs Fought One On One, No One Seemed To Care Where The Pacifier Had Been.

The Mole Rat Is The Only Rodent Born Without A Fur Coat. With A Good Lawyer, Someone Would Pay For That Little Oversight.

I See Children As Kites. You Spend A Lifetime Trying To Get Them Off The Ground. You Run With Them Until You're Both Breathless. They Crash . . . You Add A Longer Tail . . . You Patch And Comfort, Adjust And Teach. You Watch Them Lifted By The Wind And Assure Them That Someday They'll Fly.

... It's Simply Wrong To Always Order [kids] To Stop That Fighting. There Are Times When One Child Is Simply Defending His Rights And Damned Well Should Be Fighting.