Parent

We had a really first rate dinner at Amber tonight. When we arrived (at 5:15), there was one other family there and we were seated in the very back corner of the room reserved for families with little kids that look like trouble. Ruby was wearing her pink flower rain boots, mini-skirt, and a blue tee-shirt. Olive was sporting the ripped play pants and a dinosaur shirt. I really can’t blame them for seating us in the back corner, and it did nothing to dampen our enjoyment of the meal. The waitstaff positively doted over Olive. She played it cool, not answering their questions, but turning around to gawk at them when they walked away. ...

I’m a crunchy, touchy feelie, hippie parent. As such its often hard to come up with just the right words to tell your kid that biting her mom and laughing about it makes you wildly, furiously, and deeply unhappy. As a hippie, touchy feelie, AP, parent you are not, for example supposed to say “Do that again and you’re out of the family.” Nor is it encouraged to shout “Are you insane?” It’s just not the thing. Conversely the suggested mantras “Biting is not okay” and “We don’t bite sweetie,” just don’t really satisfy the deep, furious, wild feelings that are floating around the house at such moments. ...