Helicopter parents – not us!

Chittagong, Bangladesh

Chittagong, Bangladesh

We’re not helicopter parents.  Oh no, not us.

When my 27 year old son recently left for Bangladesh to volunteer in an orphanage for three months, my husband and I drove him to the airport.  My husband dropped us off at the departure gate while he parked the car.

My son and I busied ourselves getting the suitcases on a trolley and then sailed into the airport so he could check his baggage.  I clucked around a stand filling out lost suitcase forms for him and when my husband arrived he wanted to know if our son would like him to accompany him to the check-in desk.  My son shrugged his shoulders and indicated that would be fine, thought the better of it, and refused his offer. Read More

The legacy of Christmas dinner 2014

In anticipation of December 1, 2015.

After all attempts to pass the torch have failed miserably

While taking the pulse of the nation, I discovered a strain of subversive thought circulating amongst the granny set, including a few grandpas.  They are already planning a demonstration on Parliament Hill for December 1, 2015 and their main chant goes like this:

What do we want?

Someone else to make Christmas dinner!

When do we want it?


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