Eliana Osborn

My main reason for doing reading testing, enduring a bus ride to a field trip about weapons engineering, and other thrills? Stalking.

Standardized tests are taking over the world. I can say this because it is true. Like a creeping vine that seems attractive and charming at first, tests appear to be reasonable for the data and direction they can provide.

Full-fat dairy may be “healthier” for you than low-fat dairy. “May” be, as in, probably is, like with numbers and science and stuff.

Is anyone else with me on this? White foods are NASTY.

I am going to have amazing posture. My neck will look so skinny just from the way I hold my head.

Your partner will make you want to throw up at some point. Pure, unadulterated disgust.

I’ve got two tales of hideous male behavior — at the elementary school, somewhere typically full of good vibes and happiness and all that.

Eighteen hours, even if prepared with reading and art material, snacks, and an upgrade to China Airline’s family couch seating, is still EIGHTEEN HOURS.

Best case scenario? A few hours of activity, then we all fall asleep comfortably. Worst case? Well, let's just say it involves blood splatter on those weird double-paned airplane window.

There are some days of parenting that are magical, full of unicorns and four leaf clovers and lottery winnings. Those are the moments when I catch myself, just for a second, feeling content and happy and looking around trying to freeze things. Out of 7000 days, those maybe make up five a year.

Now that I’m a mother, I’m much more sympathetic to a woman who just couldn’t take it anymore. Not saying I’d leave my kids in a parking lot and hope for the best . . . just saying that I can understand the impulse.