Chores.
We all remember them.
Some were associated with allowance, others simply mandatory. For many kids, and I bet for most of us, they were often an intrusion on other more important things to do.
The fact that March is National Nutrition Month makes me think of rats.
To be more specific, I think of two particular rats that lived in my first-grade classroom.
Here is my most vivid memory of Halloween as a child:
I’m 8 years old. I have, to my father’s delight, developed an affinity for the “creature-features” that appear on the old UHF stations every Saturday from 10 AM to noon. I love Boris Karloff as Frankenstein and Bela Lugosi as Dracula.
Stories matter.
That’s not just an opinion. That’s not an axiom or a homily or a saying or even a pithy bumper sticker slogan.
That’s a genuine biological imperative.
My dog died.
Man, those are three tough words to write.
Tune in to a conversation with Dr. Schlozman and Dr. Beresin on helping kids cope with the death of a pet.
I feel both silly about and proud of how much it hurts.
The number of professionals available to conduct evaluations of children can be quite overwhelming. Psychologists, psychiatrists, social workers, educational consultants, counselors, and neuropsychologists are only a partial list of the professionals who can be helpful when you’re seeking more information about your child’s development.
This post is not about Pokemon Go.
I thought it would be prudent to lead with that caveat. This post is about play—imaginative play, to be more specific—and, while I have no qualms with the notion that people of all ages “play” Pokemon, Go, that’s not the kind of play I want to discuss.
At times like these – in the face of terrorism or war – amid our shock, grief, and fear, we need to be particularly attuned to the impact such events have on our children. Kids of all ages have questions and various emotional reactions—compounded all the more by the footage and commentary they may be seeing and experiencing.
There is a fairly disturbing video circulating the Internet this week: a substitute teacher appears terrified as students verbally, and even physically, threaten her. One boy goes so far as to raise a chair in the air, as if preparing to strike her.
The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.
“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation.