When the voice of my ego is louder than the voice of my higher self we all lose. When my son was learning to eat, he did what all babies do. He picked up the food and threw it on the floor. Every meal. Every snack. Every day.

When we learned that a boy was joining our family, we struggled to think of a name that would adequately capture the intercontinental collaboration that was responsible for our lives. Ancestors from China, Iran, Italy, Germany and the Czech republic had all survived in order for this child to be here.

A broken bone should be more than enough justification to ask for help. Unless you are 11 year old Gino, completely divorced from the ability to identify and express his needs. One of my greatest thrills in prepubescent life was the annual Lake Tahoe skiing pilgrimage my father and I embarked upon each winter.

I am not a cat person. At least that’s the story I told myself before I became a parent. It’s not that I was averse to felines, I just viewed them the same way they seemed to see me, ranging between tolerance and indifference.

The moment when my body declared itself ready to sleep is a tiny speck in the rearview mirror, and my 6 month old son has been crying inconsolably for the last hour.