The kid’s a near genius, and that’s no exaggeration. Wynken could read his own books by the time he was 3, knows more about modern dinosaur theory than most adults, and can distinguish between exoplanets and objects in the Kuiper Belt.
We were accustomed to him bringing home an A on every test. On a recent test, he brought home a very different kind of A: Asperger Syndrome.
I grew up in a neighborhood where our friends lived a couple of blocks over and we were allowed to go play with them once our homework was done.
This frequently ran up to dinner time when it was just starting to get dark.
Since we were playing in one of a dozen front or back yards or in the woods, it wasn’t like my parents could just call up on the phone and tell them to send Johnny home. And it was definitely too far to holler.
Dad grew up in a time where kids were even more free-range and everybody whistled for their kids. Every family had their own pattern, so you knew who was being whistled for.
Remember the kerfuffle regarding Senomyx and big name food companies testing flavor enhancers on fetal cell lines?
PepsiCo is the latest company to reject the use of human tissue or cell lines derived from embryos or fetuses.
Would you pay for Rosa Parks to sit in the back of the bus and call it justice?
Of course you wouldn’t. No decent human being could conscience that. It’s just wrong. It’s a matter of principle and basic civil rights. Relieving her of an obligation to pay the fare while simultaneously requiring her to sit in the back would not respect her dignity as a human being.
Unfortunately, that is precisely what is going on with the HHS mandate [...]
When should you open your mouth?
We were simply commiserating over children when she blurted it out. “You know my children were conceived by in vitro fertilization don’t you?”
I was stunned into silence. What could I say? [...]
“Do you remember that girl, Marisa?”, was how the conversation began.
How could I not? She was the cute one who sat behind me in Latin class in high school.
The pages in my yearbook are filled with grimace inducing pictures of our awkward adolescent selves, bad haircuts, cryptic references, best friends, and roller coaster loves and hates.
Oh yes, our loves were epic!
Let the eye-rolling begin.
Congratulations to my brother, Shoe, and his wife, Girl Friday, on the birth of their first born daughter, Babs!
In any family life there are major milestones that mark the way. These things stick out in our memory.
In between signposts is a lot of highway. It’s not particularly interesting, but it must be traveled in order to get to the next waypoint.
I’ve been on that highway lately, in between nowhere and somewhere else.
It seems like I’ve been a tumbleweed most of my life growing up.
On the plus side, you’re a citizen of the world, gathering amazing and varied experiences not available in local stores. On the minus side, you never quite put down roots; you’re not “from” anywhere.
Have you ever desired God? I mean really, really desired to be with Him? Not just a vague “I hope to avoid Hell, it sounds like a nasty place”, but a deep, keening longing that feels as if it can never be slaked except by an even more overwhelming Presence?
To be honest, it doesn’t happen to me that often, but it has happened. [...]
Adventures in parenting with a toddler who thinks he’s Spider-Man.
This is where all you Catholic Dads (and others) get to help a brother out. You’ll recall the heart wrenching story of Nub, my Down Syndrome child. He’s the fourth out of six Nodlings and now a healthy and scrappy six year-old. He is progressing in ability and knowledge, and we are making good strides in our communication, both by sign and some words.
However, this does not seem to extend into staying in the bed at night. With any other kid, that’s simply annoying; with Nub it can be dangerous.
What’s a father to do?