Kids have little computer bodies with disks that store information. They remember who had to do the dishes the last time you had spaghetti, who lost the knob off the TV set six years ago, who got punished for teasing the dog when he wasn't teasing the dog and who had to wear girls boots the last time it snowed.

My kids always perceived the bathroom as a place where you wait it out until all the groceries are unloaded from the car.

I never leaf through a copy of National Geographic without realizing how lucky we are to live in a society where it is traditional to wear clothes.

Poached eggs are good, poached animals are not.

I became hysterical and frightened and begged for sedation. And that was just the first prenatal visit.

One thing they never tell you about child raising is that for the rest of your life, at the drop of a hat, you are expected to know your child's name and how old he or she is.

It seemed rather incongruous that in a society of super sophisticated communication, we often suffer from a shortage of listeners.