Too often this working parent takes his meals at the desk, his goodnight kisses, too, and when he stands for the first time in memory there is nothing left to greet him but a slice of bed with a warm dog on it.
+ + +I’ve sung this working parent song countless times. The melody is dips of bitter with a pitch of sweet. The chorus is wrought with rote and tired refrain. The kids pick it up every time it comes back around, and they hum it sadly as they waltz away. Feel free to sing along if you know this one. It is the tune of grass grown greener, and … [Read more...]