“Where’s the mayo?” our daughter asked recently while standing in front of the open refrigerator doors. … “Mayo’s there. Bottom shelf, bang a left at the cheese,” my husband Francis said without looking up from his newspaper. And there it was, a big jar of Hellmans, exactly where he said it would be. If he had been asked to locate a green pepper, almond milk, yogurt, carrots, or Brussels sprouts, we’d still be waiting …
Picking Battles with the Mutilation Generation
Our 26-year-old son hasn’t trimmed his beard in three years and wears a brown Walmart sweatshirt every day. Our 23-year-old daughter had her café au lait hair dyed orangey copper. Our 20-year-old daughter wears long, wildly-painted fingernails and a fake nose ring…