I knew it was going to happen. Like most red-blooded American parents, we perpetuated the Santa Claus myth knowing full well that our bright boy would one day wise up to our plot. He'd figure out the "truth," and deep down I'd prepared for him to be bitterly disappointed; maybe even fight feelings of betrayal. But what he did instead sort of stunned me. Just the other day we were talking about Santa when my 10-year-old looked at me with a smirk. "Mom," he said. "C'mon. I know how it works." "Whatever do you mean?" I asked in mock innocence. "How does it work?" He proceeded to whisper, so as not to give away our little secret to his 7-year-old brother, that he knew we bought the presents. At first I was not sure how to respond to this conversation between us. Should I fain shock? Should I stand by our contention that a man in a big red suit ho-ho-hoed his way down our chimney and sprinkled goodies around our tree? Do ...
Miranda Bradley is a master juggler. Of life, that is. Owner of BCreative, a marketing firm in Georgetown, Texas, Miranda is, at any given time, cooking with one hand, typing with another, hugging one of her two children with her elbow, signing permission slips with pen-to-mouth, holding a speaker phone conversation and making dinner, all at the same time. And she is usually wearing pearls and a circle skirt, looking fabulous as always. Okay, maybe not the last part, but the rest is true ...