MSI Press Blog

  Siblings are the first practice ground for empathy. They learn to share space, negotiate fairness, and test loyalty long before they understand those words. In every family, sibling relationships form the emotional architecture that lasts a lifetime — sometimes sturdy, sometimes cracked, but always foundational. Parents can’t force closeness, but they can design conditions where connection grows naturally. Start with shared identity Children need to know they belong to something larger than themselves. Tell family stories — not just the polished ones, but the messy, funny, resilient ones. When siblings hear “We’re the kind of family that helps each other,” they begin to act like it. Create rituals that make belonging visible Rituals don’t have to be elaborate. A weekly movie night, a shared bedtime joke, a family handshake — these small repetitions become emotional glue. They remind children that connection is a habit, not a coincidence. Rotate pairings In large families, allian...

  Today's publisher's pride is Andrew's Awesome Adventures with His ADHD Brain by Kristin and Andrew Wilcox, which reached #213 in attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. and #235 in parenting children with disabilities on Amazon. From Amazon: Customers find the book provides brilliant insight into inattentive ADHD, with one customer noting it's a wonderful informative read for children with the condition. The book is easy to read and customers consider it a must-read. They appreciate its pacing, with one customer mentioning it's perfect for both parents and teachers. Book description: In this two-part book Andrew and his neuroscientist mom each tell their story about living with the inattentive subtype of ADHD. How do you survive life and middle school with an ADHD elephant in your brain? Kids with ADHD will relate to Andrew's reactions to everyday and school-related situations, like remembering to turn in homework, staying organized, and making friends. Usi...

  When Doah was about fifteen months old—still sporting his tracheotomy, still fragile in all the ways that made our life both vigilant and strangely normal—we decided to spend a warm January in Florida with Donny’s grandparents. They had not yet met any of the children, and Lizzie was already nearly nine. It was time. And Pittsburgh in January offered plenty of motivation to head south, long before the rest of Donny’s family began their annual retiree migrations. So we packed up the car—three kids, medical supplies, catheters, suction equipment, diapers, toys, snacks, and the kind of determination only young parents with medically complex children can muster—and drove to Daytona Beach. Compared to the cross‑country hauls we would later make after moving to California, it wasn’t a long drive. But for a family with a child with spina bifida needing regular catheterization and a baby with a trach who required constant monitoring, it was long enough. We arrived in good time, introduce...