My fondest memories of my father focus on the times we worked together. My father knew how to fix everything
A few weeks ago I was diagnosed with shingles. The week before that I had strep throat. A few weeks before that my children started a new school year and the church program year began. A few weeks before that my mother died of dementia.I’m 35.
They sit in their carseats, next to one another holding hands. The palest caucasion skin of anyone in the family, enfolding the brown hand of his Hispanic little brother. “Are they both yours?” The woman meeting us for the first time asks. “Yes,” I reply, but she wants more. “How did you get that black haired one?” “Same way I got the blond haired one.”
Picture books can help you explore diversity with your kids. How do we know that we belong in the world? Seeing ourselves in books is a vital way to learn that we’re all beautiful in the eyes of our creator.