Maybe this wild weekend was actually my reward for keeping my word.
After writing frequently and publicly for many years about our family of eight, my storytelling was curtailed when the children reached adulthood and asked me to stop writing about them. It was time, they said, to choose themselves whether and how to tell their own stories.
All right, I said, and since then I have held onto hundreds of entertaining tales and clever quotes that are like captured cats in my mind, squirming and clawing to get out. I don’t let go, because I value my relationships with my kids. But that promise has cost me reams of potential material…