Andrea Mulder-Slater

by Andrea Mulder-Slater Because not everyone enjoys impromptu discussions about poop, our local coffee shop features a not-so-secret upstairs room where mothers of toddlers congregate to have conversations punctuated by phrases like, “What happened to your other shoe?”, " How long has that worm been in your pocket? " and "Can you please take that dolphin out of your brother's ear?" without disturbing the street-level caffeine imbibers below. The other day, after a chance meeting on the sidewalk, my friend Sharon and I made tracks to “the room” to swig copious amounts of coffee while our kids ate giant ginger cookies. Two seconds in, our children asked if we had any toys. You think they would know us better by now. The only remotely kid-friendly items in my purse were a marble, two Band-Aids, a hotel pen and a miniature Spirograph toy that can only be operated by someone with Barbie doll sized hands. So, you know, I’ve given up on any aspirations of beco...

by Andrea Mulder-Slater My daughter is crazy about tiny plastic toys. It’s an obsession that began just after she turned 2 years old. I blame the owners of Sundog Books in Seaside, Florida for getting her hooked. That’s where she first saw them... a large round basket full of 'em. We're talking a massive collection of dogs, cats, birds, snakes, bees and beyond - designed to keep the kids occupied, so parents can stand around pretending to read Noam Chomsky books. For those who don't know, Seaside is a beautiful, but exclusive place with lots of expensive people running around. How we made it past the imaginary gates, is still a mystery (to the guards). In any case, from that day on, we’ve fed the girl’s habit by purchasing a crap load of fake creatures. Sometimes, she takes baths with them. And sometimes, they become part of her nana’s sculptures.  Like this one which I like to call, " Frog. Dog. Love ". Last year, someone bought her a set of plastic din...