Thursday, August 21, 2014 Av 25, 5774

On our last night of a memorable family vacation in Florida, my older son devoured a meal that wasn't smothered in chocolate or shaped like a breaded chicken paddle. I swear I almost shed tears. 

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I don't believe in hiding death or mourning from my kids, a subject I had to revisit last week when my husband's grandfather passed away. 

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My kids have two speeds: impatience and slow motion, whichever is the most frustrating for the given situation.

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Musings of a Modern Balabusta

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