When my now 8-year old was 3 years old, he was an absolute terror. Like kicking-and-screaming-on-the-floor-of-the-grocery-store terror. Like flailing-his-arms-to squirm-out-of-mine terror. You know the type. The kind of kid that makes you want to huddle in the corner of the bathroom with a bottle of wine. After running through a host of parenting methods that…
Swimming Upstream: Solving Problems Before You Know They’re There
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