Magazine

It was 3:14 PM on a Tuesday, and I was eating a cold, half-bitten Eggo waffle over the sink while my oldest, Leo, screamed like I was trying to sell him to the circus. He was exactly five weeks old,...

I'm standing on the wet sidewalk outside Stumptown Coffee on SE Belmont, holding my eleven-month-old son at arm's length like he's a highly unstable radioactive isotope. It's forty-three degrees, misting in that relentless Pacific Northwest way, and my child has...