The weekend is here, the kids are bouncing off the walls, and you’ve already played “I Spy” one too many times. Whether it’s sunny and warm or gray and soggy, every parent knows that having a plan—or at least a loose one—can make or break your Saturday.

If you’ve ever watched your toddler line up their toy dinosaurs by species, region, and inferred personality type and thought, Huh, that’s not typical, you're not alone. Or maybe your five-year-old has started asking about black holes, long division, or the philosophical implications of The Lorax. Suddenly you’re staring at your child mid-mac and cheese wondering, Am I raising a tiny genius?

In families with multiple kids, it's not unusual for the oldest to step into a kind of assistant-parent role. Having a responsible older child is a gift, especially in a world where many parents are juggling work, household responsibilities, and emotional survival all at once. But that gift can come with strings.

Mealtime with toddlers can feel like a combination of hostage negotiation and performance art. You lovingly craft a balanced, colorful plate, and they respond by eating one pea, licking a cracker, and declaring they’re “full.” We see you, weary parent.

There was a time when neighbors, teachers, store clerks, even random grown-ups at the park felt comfortable offering a little guidance when a kid got out of line. That model hasn’t just faded. It’s practically disappeared.

It’s 2025, and we know more about child development than ever before. But one debate still looms large in parenting circles, school pick-up lines, and comment sections everywhere: discipline. Specifically, the question of whether it’s ever okay to spank a child.

Parenting is messy. It’s unpredictable. It’s frustrating, hilarious, exhausting, and occasionally involves a goldfish cracker lodged somewhere it absolutely shouldn’t be. And through all of it, one thing can make the difference between spiraling and surviving: a sense of humor.

Inchstones are subtle, everyday victories that mark slow and steady progress. And more parents are starting to celebrate them, recognizing that not every win needs to be monumental to matter.

Between managing screen time, worrying about academic performance, navigating mental health issues, coordinating extracurriculars, and trying to keep a roof over everyone’s head, modern parenting feels like a full-time job with no benefits, no paid time off, and a boss who won’t stop asking for snacks.

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of freedom when your child finally falls asleep—until you realize they’ve done it sprawled across your bed, once again, with an elbow in your ribs. For many parents, the challenge of getting young children to sleep in their own beds is a nightly routine of negotiations, tears, and failed transfers worthy of Olympic stealth.

You’ve cleared the morning chaos. The cereal bowls are rinsed, the shoes are in the right places (miraculously), and now it’s your window—your golden hour to get work done. You open the laptop, take a breath, and that’s when you hear it: “Mom? What should I dooooo?”

It used to be that getting your first phone was a rite of passage somewhere around middle school. But today, many kids are handed a full-featured smartphone before they lose their last baby tooth. While some parents lean in to tech early, a growing number are pushing back.

Cities are great at building for ambition—glass towers, tech hubs, high-speed transit—but not always so great at building for bedtime, sidewalk chalk, and playdates. If you’re a parent living in an urban area, you’ve probably noticed that a lot of city design feels like it forgot about families. But what if it didn’t have to be this way?

Should children with disabilities be integrated into general education classrooms? The short answer—backed by research, common sense, and a growing number of successful real-world examples—is yes. Inclusion works. Not just for students with special needs, but for all students.

There’s a theory in child development that’s worth knowing. It’s called the islands of competence approach, and it suggests something refreshingly simple: to help kids thrive, we should focus on what they’re good at.

Summer has a reputation for draining wallets faster than kids can melt a popsicle, making it easy to feel like you need a second job just to survive the season. But here’s the good news: some of the best summer memories are made with sunscreen, sidewalk chalk, and a little creativity.

A few years ago, my partner and I found ourselves in the throes of early parenthood—sleep-deprived, overwhelmed, and craving adult conversation that didn't revolve around diaper brands or sleep schedules. Then the house next to our friend’s home went up for sale.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I realized I wasn’t going to be a perfect parent, but I think it was somewhere between the third outfit change of the day (mine, not the baby’s) and the time I cried in the pediatrician’s parking lot because my newborn hadn’t pooped in two days.

My son is four years old, which means I’ve been someone’s mom for four years. That’s about the length of college, and honestly, I feel like I’ve earned a degree—maybe not in anything accredited, but definitely in emotional multitasking, emergency snack sourcing, and deciphering feelings expressed entirely through foot-stomps and dinosaur roars.

It’s one of parenting’s greatest balancing acts: you want your child to respect you, but you don’t want to rule like a tyrant. You want to be warm, not weak. Firm, not fearsome. But how do you teach mutual respect to someone who once screamed “You’re not the boss of me!” while standing in a Paw Patrol onesie? It starts with understanding one key truth: respect isn’t automatic.