The short answer is, no, though I would certainly rank myself somewhere above our current president but just under Neanderthal. I can bullshit my way out of pretty much anything, though I don’t think that has as much to do with intellect as it does… Read More »Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader?
Kids Are Weird
Let’s talk about kids and drinking as parents. Let’s face it, kids are weird.
In the early 2000’s, when my son was only five years old, we’d enjoy frequent trips to the local park, which was walking distance from my coldly expensive and loveless suburban home. At that time – less than twenty years ago – I was pretty much the Pariah of The Park: the lone father among a gaggle of surgically-crafted moms. Obviously, there could only be two reasons I was at a playground at 11:35AM on a Tuesday:
The last note my daughter wrote asked the Tooth Fairy what she did with all the teeth she collected. I responded with a five-page short story that involved Fairy Armies, The Bone Demon and The Magical Dust of The Great Oral Cavity. She found it wildly entertaining, but I may as well have answered her note with, “Yeah, you got me, it’s dad.”
Last Sunday morning, I woke up from six hours of sleep following a four-day, end-of-summer Fun Binge with the kids. I considered myself lucky to have indulged in those precious six hours, as not unlike the mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex, sleep went extinct for me several… Read More »I Have Not Slept In 23 Years
I was driving the kids to school one cold, foggy morning, when my daughter announced, “I have something I want to say.” Sometimes, this is the six-year-old version of, I’m not sure exactly how to tell you this, but… and sometimes it’s her way of trying to shut her older sister up for just one freaking moment so she can get a word in edgewise.
I’d like to take about five minutes to tell you the story of my daughter’s mysterious hamster disappearance, and why it’s hard to get a good glass of wine at a dive bar.
I recently discovered that I have been stricken with a strange affliction: I suddenly can’t dance. I’m not saying I was the Second Coming of Michael Jackson or Fred Astaire to begin with, but I had my moves, executed them well, and could mostly avoid snark and condemnation at weddings and clubs. But that has all gone away.
My two little Sunshine Princesses, ages five and seven, regaled me in the car last week with tales of the Zombie Apocalypse. Being a Certified Geek myself, I figured this new obsession with the undead was my doing; that somehow they’d heard me talking about it in the context of my first novel, or while geeking out with friends. That said, knowing that it takes very little to inspire a child’s nightmare, I try to be cognizant of the things that would freak out my kids, and the consumption of human flesh to the point of the world ending is at the top of that list.
It’s no secret that I want my daughter to become the first sommelier to get certified before the age of ten..though it might be a secret to Child Protective Services, so maybe we should keep this little tidbit under the hat. There’s no doubt she’s… Read More »Smile, Though Your Punt Is Aching