I have a friend whose children sit nicely and quietly. They whisper. They enjoy quiet activities. They love to read.
My children love to read. While yelling. And playing. And poking each other. While jumping on one foot. And twirling in circles. And fighting over the book in question.
My children are loud. They do not sit still. They never, ever whisper.
I live what Ursula Nordstrom said about wanting to publish good books for bad children. I think that’s what I’m destined to write. I do not consider my children bad. But if the rest of the children in the world are anything like my three, we’ve got our work cut out for us.