When people used to pick on me as a child, I would often run home and tell my parents. My dad, who was convinced I was the smartest, prettiest, most well-behaved daughter anyone could ever desire, would listen to my tale of woe and conclude, "They must be jealous." If my peers picked on my choice of outfit, or called me chubby or "Four Eyes," I ( Read more... )

Watching my little Kung Fu Panda standing up with the help of the coffee table, smacking his hand against the wooden surface, while he babbles happily and practices blowing raspberries, I'm convinced I'm doing something right. You wouldn't know this from listening to some people.

( Is he eating steak yet? )