What little boys are made of

The other day during breakfast, David leaned over and whispered into his sister’s ear. Then he looked up at me and said, “Mommy, I just told Mary Virginia she’s going to die soon.” He informed me like it was something we’d talked about ahead of time, and then he went right back to eating his pancakes. The

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Portraits of my son

Portraits of my son

One of Tom’s Christmas presents to me this year was a photography class. And, before I go any further, talk about a slam-dunk Christmas from Tom. I got him a jacket he didn’t want and underwear. I want to take a moment to publicly apologize. After we, um, lost our DSLR this fall, we upgraded to a

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A morning in the salt mines

Mary Virginia is just at the very beginnings of being interested in coloring. She’ll hold a marker, draw a few lines on the paper, and a few moments later try to climb on the table. The only reason I’ve even started “coloring” with her is because she wants to do whatever her brother is doing, so

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