At Our House, You Don’t Have to Hide Your Brussels Sprouts in Your Napkin. Hell–That’s Funny–Like You’d Be Given a Napkin at Our House

Here are my dominant memories of first grade: 1) I got chicken pox and stayed home from school for a week. It got a little long, that week of lolling around, scratching myself, but then my mom set a Mason jar of buttons next to me (which her mom had collected for decades), and suddenly… Continue reading At Our House, You Don’t Have to Hide Your Brussels Sprouts in Your Napkin. Hell–That’s Funny–Like You’d Be Given a Napkin at Our House

As Henry VIII Would Tell You, Heavy Is the Head That Bears the Seed

My lad Paco is generally regarded as quite tall for his age. On more than one occasion, the drunken college students who rent the house behind us have tossed him their car keys and asked him to be their designated driver. As well, he could trounce all his fellow first-graders in a tetherball tournament, simply… Continue reading As Henry VIII Would Tell You, Heavy Is the Head That Bears the Seed