It really does take a village. Five of ‘em, actually.

We parents want our children to be able to make it in this world without us, but not yet.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close tells the story of what happens when a child has to make do without a parent much too soon.

If Oscar could talk, he’d echo what our same-gender-loving brothers and sisters have been trying to tell us: the formula for family is simple.

Who you love  + Who loves you back = Family.

Dreamworks’ 2011 blockbuster, The Help, applies this simple equation to the transracial, intergenerational relationships between a cadre of 1960s black mammies and the white mothers who love (and also hate) them.

If there were such things, the job descriptions in the mammy training manual and the mommy training manual would certainly overlap — a competent caregiver of either stripe must clean the dirty, feed the hungry, and hush the distressed.

Compared to babies, we adults are sniveling cowards.

Yesterday, I received an “atta girl!” email.  A friend of mine had found out that I’d recently conquered a lifelong fear: I sang.

Then Kelly revealed to me that she had also stared down a big monster:  she climbed. Rock climbing, up high. She had clambered over her terror, to reach out and grab the exhilaration that awaited her at the peak. High-fives are clearly in order.

But while we’re at it, let’s also celebrate babies and their risky busy-ness.

Sometimes a blankie is just a blanket.

This past week, we’ve looked at the many ways that baby blankets help young children develop, calm down, think, explore, play, and get on with their lives.

Let’s end this series by getting to a blanket truth: they are a must-have child development tool for parents.