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August, 2006. That was what my little feminist looked like before she grew hair and an attitude. No, wait. She always had the attitude. Hair just seems to have intensified it.

Emilia isn’t one for dolls, really. She much prefers taking them apart and incorporating them into art installations than she does cuddling them and pretending that they’re real. Because they’re not real, as she likes to remind me whenever I suggest that perhaps Shoggy or Zoe or Dora might like to get to bed at…

It was my husband’s birthday this weekend. We celebrated by making Emilia’s favorite meal, spaghetti, and having Emilia’s favorite cake, cake. Because that’s how birthdays go when you’re parents to small children to whom birthdays mean only CAKE, and also, CAKE. Whose birthday it is, which birthday it is, whether the birthday celebrant would maybe…

It is wonderful to be traveling with the kids. It is also very, very difficult. It is wonderful for all the usual reasons. Their excitement at seeing new things. Their enjoyment of swimming pools and street performers and hotel bathrooms with all the tiny soaps. Their delight in spending so much time with me and…
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