What’s in a name? A lot.

For as long as I can remember, people have asked me, “Do you prefer Mike or Michael?”

And, of course, the answer is that I prefer Leonard.

Ok, so truth of the matter is, I don’t really care. And I tell people that when they ask. Whatever you want to call me is fine, as I answer to both Mike and Michael. (My wife calls me Michael, but it has very different meanings based on how she says it.)
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Kids, you’re on your own now

My family went to dinner the other night. As we all got of the car, we stood at the back of the vehicle and waited for several cars to pass by until we crossed the parking lot to the restaurant.

As we walked, it occurred to me: Neither my wife nor I had not protected either of our children from wandering in front of the oncoming traffic. We hadn’t held a hand. We hadn’t extended the Uncrossable Parental Hand right in the midsection. We hadn’t even made that attention getting parenting noise you make when halting children. You know, that “Bempbempbemp! Stop!”
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