Remember those quiet evenings after the kids are asleep? That’s when she’ll sometimes point at her phone screen and whisper, ‘Look at this. The cat in that video we watched yesterday—it has three eyes now.’ That funny family moment we shared was quietly changing right before us. The magic technology creates is amazing, but it

We’ve all had those evenings, haven’t we? That moment when the last crayon gets put away and the little voice finally shares what’s been heavy in their heart since school let out. I remember watching your face soften when you said, ‘I really understand how you feel’—how their shoulders dropped, the relief washing over them

There you were last night at the kitchen table—fingers reddened from pushing that thick needle through canvas—patiently mending our son’s frayed backpack strap. While others might’ve tossed it, you turned ripped seams into stitches of perseverance. And as I watched you work under that warm kitchen light, it hit me: This is where they’re really

There are evenings when the house finally settles into its peaceful rhythm, our little ones breathing softly in their rooms, and I catch your eye from across the room. Your eyes are slightly distant, illuminated by the soft glow of your phone, while my own screen holds the attention I haven’t quite been able to

I noticed you reading that piece about skills mattering more than degrees tonight—it took me right back to all those late-night talks we’ve had. Remember when we used to lie awake worrying about getting them into the right schools, making sure they had perfect grades? Sometimes I catch the same worry in your eyes when

Remember those evenings when you walk through the door, exhausted from work but still carrying the weight of family responsibilities? Yeah, me too. There’s something about the way you seamlessly move between your laptop and our children’s needs, between digital solutions and human connection, that has made me reflect deeply on our journey together. In