The epiphany came mid-pillow fight.
I'd just let my 6-year-old daughter whack me and as I fell to the ground, mimicking a body blow worthy of any GLOW episode, I realized I hadn't been playing enough with my kids.
Somewhere between Christmas and New Year's, when my husband and I weren't scrambling to meet deadlines while caring for our older daughter and her 15-month-old sister, we found ourselves relaxed enough to regularly talk in ridiculous voices, pretend we live in a universe run by unicorns, and accept invitations to tickle fights. The toddler screamed with delight at the antics. The 6-year-old went to bed happy and exhausted. Read more...
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