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.

Like many parents during the pandemic, my living room became my office, my child’s classroom, and what I can only describe as a war zone of LEGO and forgotten snacks. In those early days, we weren’t just juggling responsibilities; we were reinventing them on the fly.

Mother’s Day is the Super Bowl of parenting appreciation—and if you’re the father of her children, you are the head coach. So it’s time to make a game plan.

Yes, our kids—smart, sensitive, endlessly creative—are struggling. And no, it’s not just about too much screen time (though we’ll get to that). It’s about loneliness, disconnection, and a deep sense of meaninglessness that seems to be creeping into childhood and adolescence earlier and earlier. That’s not just troubling. It’s heartbreaking.

For most modern families, having two working parents is the norm. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, nearly 70 percent of families with children under 18 have both parents in the workforce. It’s not just a trend, it’s a reflection of economic reality, shifting gender roles, and changing values around purpose and partnership.

Welcome to the resurgence of the trad wife and trad husband—couples who are leaning into traditional gender roles where one partner (often the wife) manages the home and kids full-time, while the other takes on the sole breadwinning responsibility.

When parents loosen the reins (within reason), kids develop grit, creativity, and resilience—the very qualities they'll need not just to survive but to thrive in an unpredictable world. The idea isn’t to abandon guidance or set children loose in the wilderness with a granola bar and a compass. It's about gradually allowing them to experience real responsibility and real consequences while the stakes are still low.

In a world spinning ever faster—divided, digital, and often dehumanized—kids need more than coding skills. They need compassion. The humanities train the moral imagination. They teach students not just what to think, but how to think—and why it matters.

Being a dad—really being a dad—isn’t about biology or providing in the 1950s sense of the word. It’s not just about tossing a football in the backyard or showing up for the occasional school assembly. It’s about diapers. Dishes. Midnight rocking sessions and middle-of-the-day doctor appointments. It’s about showing up every day; not just when it’s convenient.

If you’ve ever stepped on a LEGO brick barefoot, congratulations—one could argue you’re already halfway to raising an engineer. But if your child is more into asking a hundred “why” questions at dinner than building towers, you might be sitting on untapped STEM potential.

A mother shares her firsthand experience giving birth in both a hospital and at home. Explore the emotional highs, practical challenges, and surprising differences between hospital and home birth in this candid, heartfelt story.

In today’s whirlwind of parenting styles—gentle, attachment, free-range, helicopter—it’s easy to feel like raising a child is less about instinct and more about picking a brand. But amid the buzzwords, one tried-and-true style continues to quietly win the long game: authoritative parenting.

When a parenting style like gentle parenting comes along promising calmer kids, more empathy, and fewer tantrums (yours and theirs), it’s no wonder it’s caught fire like a dry pinecone in a summer campfire. But like any philosophy that looks great on Instagram, gentle parenting deserves a closer look.

There’s something magical about mud on your boots and sunshine on your face—especially when you’re experiencing it with your kid by your side. Whether you're hiking through redwood forests, skipping rocks across a lake, or simply chasing fireflies in the backyard, getting active in the great outdoors with your children is a powerful, joyful, soul-filling experience for both parent and child.

Once upon a time, kids devoured books like candy. Libraries were after-school sanctuaries, and summer reading challenges sparked fierce sibling rivalries (or maybe that was just in my house). But somewhere along the way—between screen time and standardized testing, social media and the short attention spans it breeds—reading took a backseat. And now, we’ve got a problem.