So I wrote a piece for Salon, which you can see here
The title they plopped on there is totally cringe-inducing and not at all the point of the article, and there were some edits that maybe snipped a bit of my sense of humor out, but all in all I’m pretty happy with it, and am genuinely touched by some of the thank you comments I received. I would also like to inform the trollish commenter who urged me to “grow a pair” that if I could do that, I’m preeeeety sure I could get at least a 1,000 words out of that, and then you’d have to read my stuff even more than you are already forced to do (which is a lot, obvs). So, you know, be careful what you wish for, internet mean guy.

So, obviously, my son is going to be a hugely talented singer, actor, and tween musk designer. And I am going to profit from his talent, because I am a great mother, duh. But before we pack the bag for Encino, my son has got to work on his chops. His toddling may play on the field where he plays, but it will not cut it in Branson, or in High School Musical 4, Electric Bugalour. So we’re going to start running this tape, working on his box step and awkward line-readings, coaching him on weird grammy-kissin’ and premature assertions of lady-lovin’, and deepening his dimples with gentle (but firm) poking. Also maybe some veneers. Nickelodeon, here we come! Thanks Uncle David Roth, the Writer!