Deb is a full-time mom and freelance copy editor who changes diapers by day and groans over misplaced modifiers by night (but takes no notice of her own typos and grammatical slip-ups). After fourteen years in the big city, working in advertising and marketing with some of the biggest and coolest brands in the world, she clambered out of the corporate hamster ball and moved to Minnesota, eager to change the world one little person at a time. In other words, she became a mother. And while she can take your manuscript and turn it into gold (for a reasonable hourly rate), and she can conjure ace marketing strategies out of thin air, she’s still working like a dog to get this parenting thing right. She has begun to suspect that “getting it right” is a lifelong endeavor. (Okay, maybe she already knew that, but internalizing it has taken some time.) She conceived the Hokey Pokey Project as part of that effort.
Jay is four years old, and his lengthy resume includes both preschool and pre-K. He harbors growing obsessions for robots, fruit bats, and girls. And despite his affinity for torturing his little sister, he is a kind-hearted soul and compassionate beyond his years. He has already demonstrated his ability to dramatically improve people’s lives by turning two wide-eyed, innocent people into parents and teaching them the meaning of unconditional love.
Charlie is almost two, and she has already been voted “Child Most Likely to Require Stitches” by her incredulous parents who watch trembling from the sidelines as she daredevils her way through life. She is a force to be reckoned with, and the volume of her screeches (most often elicited at the torturous hands of her big brother) are matched only by the wattage of her puckish grins. She has already demonstrated her ability to change people’s lives for the better by taking an interest in potty training at an early age.
Last, but by no means least, is the father of the Hokey Pokey Project, Arun. He is an executive at a Fortune 500 company. In other words, the only one of the four of us with a job that requires shoes and a daily shower. He not only funds our flights of whimsy (not to mention pre-K tuition), but he is our avid cheering section, our trusted sounding board, and our hero. If you had him in your corner, you too would believe you could do anything, even something as crazy as make a city smile for fifty-two weeks.