Category Archives: One Sentence Stories

Parenting, like driving, is an act of such magnitude and potential for life-altering screwup . . . that when performing it, it’s best not to think too deeply about it and just enjoy the ride.

Listening to the rough tracks of the album in progress, before she knew it the hour drive was over – she had flown down the country roads, singing along to the sound of her own voice in the speakers, jostling towards the end of … Continue reading →

Left to his own devices of a Sunday afternoon, he made his own lunch: waffles with syrup, boiled cabbage, and pineapple from the can.

She wakes up to his smiles ever day, a deep grin he leans his whole body into, and is continually bewildered that she and her husband produced such a delightfully sunny little boy: bewildered, and deeply grateful!   A One … Continue reading →

The problem with being a mother is that I don’t have enough milk to feed every hungry baby, and every hungry baby is mine just as he is mine, no matter what the species.