Friends have been saying for years I should write. Tell my stories.
I think, no, I'm not a writer. Not good enough. But today I'm compelled to tell a story. It won't be short, so prepare for a thread. The impetus is my fear 1/
I spent a career trying hard to dispel this approach to teaching & disciplining babies.
Children this age DO NOT have the cognitive ability to understand these concepts.
It only reinforces distrust.
I'll die on this hill.
Address concerns in the moment. Thoughtfully.
I was a street kid in LA. Hitchhiking one night up PCH, got picked up by a carful of people. Invited me out to their ranch where the girls said someone named Charlie would like me. They let me out at Topanga Canyon when I said No.
I think it was Tex Watson driving.
Coworker who claimed to be hypersensitive to ALL cleaning products. Selective reactions, to say the least. 🙄
She came in one afternoon & I proceeded to spray down every surface. She started gasping.
I waited a minute or 2 before announcing she must be allergic to H20.
Or the one who tells you her kids aren't by her only husband ever who sits by the bedside with tears in his eyes, distraught over losing his devoted wife. (Cardiac unit)