Dear Ellie — You’re rolling over now. Opa and I were trying to talk to you on FaceTime, but you couldn’t be bothered for long. You’d get a determined look on your face, and voila, you’d flip onto your stomach — delighted with yourself and ready…
Dear Ellie — When you’re pregnant, one of the most delightful tasks you have is to pick out a name for the baby. Well, wait a minute. Delightful may be overstating it. It’s a big responsibility to name a new human being, after all. And,…
Dear Ellie — When you go through a tough time in your life, people often line up to help. Their good intentions are really touching — but most of them also want to give you advice. The trouble is, much of their well-meaning advice sucks. They say everything happens…
Ellie, my own sweet girl — We got to see you at Thanksgiving and Christmas both this year. Even in those three weeks in between, we could see so many changes in you — more focus, better head control, a fascination with your own hands….
Dear Ellie — Read or listen to the news today, and you will probably conclude you were born in the worst of times. Global warming! Terrorism! Fanaticism! Violence, rampant obesity, apathy, bad grammar, ignorance! We’re doomed! I hope I haven’t neglected any areas of concern,…
Dear Ellie — Thirty-three years ago, Opa and I came across a quote we really loved. “Having a baby,” it read, “is like having a bowling alley installed in your brain.” Exactly! we both exclaimed, screeching with deranged laughter. A bowling alley! How very precise!…
Ellie — I just looked it up and you’re officially a member of Generation Z, along with everybody else born since 2000. There’s some quibbling about this, of course. Your cohort might also be called iGen or Post-Millennials — or by the time you read…
Ellie — OK, kiddo. Time for a little family history. I want you to understand your more distant roots so that, someday, you’ll have an idea where you came from. I’m hoping it will be meaningful to you when you’re older. November 9, was my mother’s…
Ellie — I don’t want to insult you, but flying with a 10-week-old is always a dicey proposition. New parents live in fear their little pride and joy — normally, so adorable! so sweet! — is going to stage a full-blown, operatic meltdown 30,000 feet in…
Ellie — I visited Seattle last week, staying a few blocks away from your parents’ townhouse. You’d changed a lot since I first saw you as a week-old newborn. For one thing, you’re smiling. Do you have any idea what undignified lengths presumably sane adults…