A short story
MY NAME IS SIMON. I am eight years old, almost nine. I had the worst first day of school ever.
My two best friends are Jonah Jason and Arthur. (Jonah Jason is actually his first name, not his first and last name, by the way.) Our Grade 3 . . .
I let my son decide his own consequence for a video game infraction. He made a pretty mature decision
When I was a kid, I really liked to play video games. I grew up on an Atari 2600. The games were two-dimensional, blocky, with bleeps and blurts. It was good fun. Asteroids, Missile Command and Defender were my favourites. Yars' Revenge was pretty cool, too.
I liked the Atari so much, as an adult, I bought an Atari Flashback . . .
Imperfect action is a lot better for my mental health
Perfectionism is not altogether a bad thing. It's good to have high standards.
But it's doing me more harm than good.
I think I may have unwittingly passed my perfectionism on to my kids.
I realized this playing catch with my son. He was way too hard on himself because he wasn't catching every ball.
One of my simplest . . .
Manor Park School's production of The Lion King Jr was magic
One part art. One part story. One part love. Mix together: The result is magic.
Kids from Manor Park Public School in Ottawa brought together a community with their production of The Lion King Jr.
I once told my children to think of school as a community. Instead of the physical building and walls that . . .
I wonder why I put myself through the mental wringer
Depression tracks me like a ninja, quietly plotting his course in the dark; muted footfalls, cagey eyes.
Living with it requires constant vigilance, self-care. Ignoring the signs can lead to disaster. I constantly calculate the costs and benefits of disclosure. I'm afraid of appearing weak.
I push through.
Deep down, I . . .
I talked about Jesus, but my kid's focus was on the Easter bunny
I'm not a religious person. But I know there are forces I can't even begin to understand in this universe—forces greater than anything I can ever fathom.
I'm a non-practising Christian, but I always reflect around Easter. Good Friday, especially. I was going through my journals and came upon a passage. A discussion about . . .
A con artist left me feeling grateful and betrayed
I have to give her credit, she told a great story. Before my son and I realized she scammed us, we felt pretty good about ourselves.
We were enjoying a nice father-son walk around the neighbourhood. Came across a woman near the end of our street. She was hard at work, chipping away ice on her driveway.
A bit rough around the . . .