The Velveteen Rabbit

A Pink Panther plush next to a fuzzy rabbit plush, on top of a pillow decorated with stars.

Tonight, C’s bedtime story was The Velveteen Rabbit. Fresh from a bath and rosy-cheeked, she curled up under the covers and held her own stuffed bunny close under her chin, her eyes gleaming in the low light. Serene and soft and warm in that way that only tired toddlers get. I have always loved The Velveteen Rabbit. And the obvious parallelism of the moment wasn’t lost on me – my baby in bed with her soft rabbit held close, and the boy in the story with his deep love for…

Impressions in the Snow

Impressions in the Snow

There have been several big snowfalls in a row this winter. I came home from a rare Sunday spent at the office and could barely get the car into the driveway. I didn’t want to shovel. The teens were occupied, hanging out with their cousins; my wife wanted to nap. I wanted to spend some overdue quality time with the toddler. But I needed to clear the driveway so we could park two cars in it. Could I get two birds with one stone, maybe? “Come help me shovel,” I…

“As butter over too much bread”

Toast on a plate, butter melting on it, with a butter knife set upon the plate.

Sometimes a writer just gets it right. Tolkein’s “butter, scraped over too much bread” is a masterclass in understated imagery. I get you, Bilbo. I’m feeling thin, too. Stretched. I said so to my wife tonight. I tapped the fingertips of each hand together and pulled them apart, slowly. The gesture illustrated stretched clearly, but it wasn’t right. It was intentional, gentle, taffy-making. This stretched is more haphazard, not linear; a wearing, tearing friction, the result of too much too frequently without realizing how thin things had already gotten. There’s…

Lessons from a Babe in Quarantine

The day after my office sent us all home due to the pandemic, our baby was born. About twelve hours after I finished packing up my desk, we were on the phone with triage at the hospital. We were sure that the baby was coming. Nearly two weeks early and at a truly unpleasant hour of the morning, but on her way.

Labours of Love

labours of love

Originally written October 18, 2019 As I write this I am deeply fatigued. But I am very, very happy. Mostly. See, when NJ returns from her latest round of work travel, I will have been solo with the kids for about half the month. And in that time, I’ve made an effort to keep the wheels on the household. That’s just being a parent. But I’ve also tried to make NJ’s travel more enjoyable, make Thanksgiving really special for the kids, host my sister and her fiancé, keep ahead of…

Thank You, Marshmallow Snowman: How a Christmas Ornament Saved Christmas

Marshmallow snowman Christmas ornament

Love Make Share is the story of the connections we make as we create together. One of the things we create every year is a festive mood in the house. This goes back to our first Christmas we first trimmed a tree together, nearly seven years ago, with the girls barely 3 and 4 years old at that time. The tree, whether artificial, bought from a local lot, cut down at the family farm up in the valley, has always been the jumping-off point for our festivities. Every year we’ve trimmed…

Have I taken Halloween too far?

November is over. Halloween gave way to National Novel Writing Month, and I completely forgot I had written this post. So here it is now. The rest of this post is written by Past Trevor of October 31-November 1, with a quick edit by Present Trevor. Future Trevor was unavailable at press time..  * Peak Halloween looks like this post I made on Facebook: I love Halloween. I love making costumes. But boy, am I feeling Halloweened out this year. It’s become something of a tradition that I take the…

Texts from my Daughters

texts

We’ve been slowly inching towards the day where the kids start staying home alone from time to time. There are a lot of reasons why they should. They’re old enough and responsible enough. That’s the primary thing. But eventually saving a mortgage payment’s worth of cash on daycare every month – that’s another. Watching them grow and self-actualize. Knowing that they’re in their own space, able to do their homework and tend to the pets and take ownership of the home in a cool new way. But I’ll tell you…

An Argument With My Daughter, Paraphrased

It is about ninety seconds before the children need to be out the door to go to school.  I find myself in conversation with my eldest. “Where’s the item that you take to school every single day?” I ask. “In the room that’s a mess because of my sister and I and the animals,” she replies. “Okay. Grab it please, we need to get you out the door.” “No. There’s a reason I won’t,” she says, voice rising. “In fact, I’m upset about it, as you can tell by the…

Fleenk-Shnert Means…

love

“You know what the most annoying thing you do is?” I admit, I wasn’t quite prepared for that question from Sprints. “I mean, when you put it that way – no, not really,” I laughed. “But go ahead.” She looked me straight in the eye, laid down her fork, and said, “You tell us you love us, like, all the time.” It’s true, I admit it. I’m pretty relentless with the affection. But she’s my Sprints. The Artist Formerly Known as Little Fish. The one who, for a brief time,…

Knock Knock – A Story of Socks

doorknob

“Knock knock,” I said. “Who’s there?” Whistler had told knock-knock jokes at me through the bathroom door for five minutes earlier. Clearly, she wasn’t done. Only this time, I was on the outside of the door, butting in on her quiet moment. “Sock delivery,” I said. That wasn’t a joke. I really did have an armful of socks. She was strong enough to carry her own laundry upstairs, but wasn’t quite strong enough yet that she could do so without spilling socks all over the stairs. “Sock delivery who?” “Sock…

Changes

kids on first day of school

The change started in January. In short order, the girls’ parents were married, and only six months after I started on a new career path, so did their mom. These weren’t massive changes, functionally, but I could tell the kids felt it. A subtle shakeup to the background noise of their lives. Whistler and the Fish met those developments with excitement and an easy acceptance. Then, less than six months later, we decided to change not just little things, but everything. We decided to move. It would mean a new…