Friday, July 3, 2015 Tammuz 16, 5775

For the last several summers, usually while I'm driving from one camp to the next, I've fantasized about spending a month somewhere with the kids, preferably not on this continent.

Since the weather broke, we've been allowing our sons to ride their bikes around our city neighborhood but I worry that someone might call the cops on me for the perceived lack of parental supervision.

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Mother's Day doesn't care a whit about you — just ask her. I did when I recently ran into her at Paper Source. 

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For as long as he's been alive, I have carried my youngest son, who is now 8, up the stairs to bed. But one of these nights, I'm going to have to say goodbye to this ritual.

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Musings of a Modern Balabusta
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