When your mother asks, "Do you want a piece of advice?" it's a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway.

When a child is locked in the bathroom with water running and he says he's doing nothing but the dog is barking, call 911.

No one ever died from sleeping in an unmade bed. I have known mothers who remake the bed after their children do it because there is wrinkle in the spread or the blanket is on crooked. This is sick.

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.

Families aren't easy to join. They're like an exclusive country club where membership makes impossible demands and the dues for an outsider are exorbitant.

It is not until you become a mother that your judgment slowly turns to compassion and understanding.

To my way of thinking, the American family started to decline when parents began to communicate with their children.

I read one psychologist's theory that said, "Never strike a child in your anger." When could I strike him? When he is kissing me on my birthday? When he's recuperating from measles? Do I slap the Bible out of his hand on Sunday?