My children were born in New York City. As toddlers, they played in the American Museum of Natural History, joined baby-music classes on the Upper East Side, gnawed on street pretzels, and threw leaves in the air in Central Park. I had originally expected to be a Manhattan mom, but over the years I've come to accept they are now southern kids living in Houston, Texas. They wear shorts year-round, wear sunshine on their skin, crave Whataburger, have never made a snowman, and get pumped for Go Texan Day, dressed in boots, vests, and hats — it's like Halloween twice...
