“Dad, come on and dance!”
I disappeared for a bit. On this page, at least. I had to. Lots of work, a few social engagements, doctors, therapists, school meetings. Then doctors, therapists and school meetings all over again. And then the ER. My six-year-old son hobbled in from a soccer match at a friend’s house with an injured foot. We went to the emergency. The doctor said he was a lucky boy. It was only a bruise. My son frowned. He wasn’t going to let that report get in his way. He didn’t. He’s still limping a week later and lapping up all the attention.
Parenting gets busy.
And my work gets busy too. Deadlines to meet, assignments to begin, interviews to do and contacts to take out for coffee. I have a good life as a reporter. Every day is different. I write about a film, an oil strike, an executive on the move, and then do an analysis of the entertainment industry or the presidential race, and then write about a TV drama. And then a real economic drama. [continue reading…]
“We once lived in a forest…”
Over the past year, my family has watched houses sprout up in the forest behind our brick house on the Argentine coast. For years we’ve been on the frontier. Behind our house stretches a forest and sand dunes with intermittent meadows stretching until the edge of the next town down the coast. But this is Pinamar, and it’s getting more popular. And without much town planning, developers are expanding at the edges, creeping further and further into the forest and the dunes to sell more land and sell more dreams of your own house on the coast.
We’ve watched one project in particular. It’s a corner house on the frontier of southern Pinamar and the wilderness. It’s a log cabin, a large one with a small fort doubling as a water tower. Most houses in Pinamar are made of brick or stucco. This one looks right out of the Wild West, only the logs are glossy. [continue reading…]
“Yeah, what’s he got against us girls?”
My six-year-old autistic son went up to my wife the other day with a concerned look on his face. He told her that one day he will get married. It’s what happens. That’s life. But there’s a problem, he said. When he leaves home to get married, there won’t be a boy in the house any more and Mummy will get lonely. The solution, he said, is to have another boy.
That makes sense.
And that would make a bigger family, which is what he wants… as long as it’s a baby boy.
That would even out the number of boys and girls in our household, and bring him peace.
