This is a safe space, so I’m going to tell you something I don’t dare speak aloud at home in my living room: If I have to provide voices for the creatures of My Little Pony for one more minute, it will likely be a string of expletives that would melt Pinkie Pie’s little plastic ears. I’m glad I got that off my chest. 
There are four kids in the Howerton family. Three of them are extroverts, and I’m a classic introvert. I used to think making small talk with loud strangers at large social gatherings was my own private circle of hell, but now I know better: it’s pretend-playing with my daughter. Don’t get me wrong. I adore her. She’s the sweetest little extroverted chatterbox in Southern California. I would gladly cuddle with her for hours. But there’s something inside me that despairs when she asks me to improvise conversations between Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle. (Yes. I know their names.) The whole scenario exhausts me…but it’s also teaching me a few things about being an introverted parent with extroverted kids. Here’s what I’m learning . . . Read the rest over at the Quiet Revolution site.
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