Paul: ...this is a new rule — no boys upstairs, downstairs, anywhere in the house until after the holidays — which includes Christmas, New Year's, Fourth of July, and, for good measure, Groundhog Day.
Cate: Okay, readers, today we're having a little pop quiz. It's multiple choice. So sharpen your number two pencils and put on your thinking caps. Ready? Here's a quote: "Dad, you're an idiot." Now, contestants, this was said to me because of which of the following transgressions? A: Coming to the breakfast table wearing pajamas and black socks? B: Asking my oldest daughter if that guy I saw her talking to yesterday at school was her boyfriend? C: Referring to rapper Fiddy Cent as "Fifty Cents"? or D: Entering the room? Okay, pencils down. Actually it was a trick question. The answer is all of the above. Now do you know how many times I called my father an idiot? Zero. Why? Because I feared him. Back then we didn't share our deep personal feelings, our deepest conversations usually revolved around the tigers bull pen. But my kids, I can't get them to shut up! There's not a feeling that my kids are afraid to express over and over and over. And my wife reassures me this is a good thing over and over and over, and she's always right.
— Cate, reading Paul's last article before he died