Since the age of five I had been one of those people who was an indefatigable reader, more inclined to go off by myself with a book than do any of the dozens of things that children usually do to amuse themselves. I never aged out of it.

I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves.

Your children make it impossible to regret your past. They're its finest fruits. Sometimes the only ones.

Maybe I had three children in the first place so I wouldn't ever have to play board games. In my religion, martyrs die.

The reason child care is such a loaded issue is that when we talk about it, we are always tacitly talking about motherhood. And when we're talking about motherhood we're always tacitly assuming that child care must be a very dim second to full-time mother care.

Raising a child is a little like Picasso's work; in the beginning he did very conventional representational things. Cubism came after he had the rules down pat.

All parents should be aware that when they mock or curse gay people, they may be mocking or cursing their own child.

I was doing the family grocery shopping accompanied by two children, an event I hope to see included in the Olympics in the near future.

What had I expected of the first child? Everything. Rocket scientist. Neurosurgeon. Designated hitter. We talked wisely at cocktail parties about the sad mistake our mothers had made in pinning all their hopes and dreams on us. We were full of it.