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Don't Eat Rocks.

They say the best thing about writing is having written. And the best thing about hiking is having hiked. But the best thing about parenting is not having parented, but parented in what I hope may be the best way possible for my kids, and for me.

When Riv was little, having parented in the best way possible meant I kept the rocks out of his mouth and the avocados in it. Now the best way isn't as obvious as "don't eat rocks". There might be eleven best ways, and thirty-seven fuck-him-up-forever ways and the weight of choosing one of the eleven is heavy. The wretchedness of writing something meaningful and articulate, the struggle of slogging up slopes that seem so much smaller on maps, and the process of parenting a healthy, well-rounded kid who won't go YouTube viral for all the wrong reasons are consistent themes in my life.

This new parenting era -- the one where there's pubic hair where there once was a diaper -- requires a much keener focus on the lifelon…

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