Recently leading my family of seven (soon to be eight) through the airport for an international flight, it dawned on me how much of a circus we must appear to bystanders. Though my older children are more-or-less trained to follow instructions and minimize complaining, the toddlers wander out of line, sometimes bypassing security, screaming whenever my wife and I attempt to corral them. People stare, whisper, and shake their heads at our “little basketball team.” We are, in a word that is having its political moment, “weird.”
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people hate that white people have kids.
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