Many pregnant women give their babies a nickname in the womb. They’re often food-related like Peanut or Jelly Bean or Arugula.
Our nickname was Senny, short for Senator Mortimer Gaffney, the name I’ve chosen for a future son. Read More
Mother’s Day was supposedly created to honor mothers, but its real purpose is for them to scrutinize the severity of their kids’ senses of entitlement.
That’s fine, but the tables are quickly turned on the less lovable dads who are supposed to use their children as surrogates in a non-romanticized love fest that leaves them scratching their heads. Read More
Hey pal, hope you’re doing well.
Sorry that I’ve been avoiding you since you became a parent. It seemed like a lot to handle and I didn’t want to get in the way.
Also, I had very little interest in your kids. No interest at all, to be honest.
But now I have my own kid so that’s changed. Self-interest has made me a better man. We should hang out again sometime! Read More
I’ve ordered the exact same pair of shoes at least four times in a row over the past few years.
I’m not afraid of change, I just don’t believe in forcing the issue when there isn’t a problem. Read More
On Super Bowl Sunday this year, I was live texting my take on the Puppy Bowl to a couple of old college pals, as any red-blooded American man does.
With genuine interest, I surveyed my friends to find out which ones were “Team Ruff” and which were “Team Fluff.” One of my angrier friends replied, “whichever team supports my right to bear arms under the second amendment.”
When politics has reached the Puppy Bowl, nothing is safe. Read More
After I described the astounding number of signs indicating that my baby communicates with ghosts, the doctor shrugged it off as my daughter “going to her happy place.”
I rarely disagree with a doctor on matters of medicine, but edible happy places aren’t legal in this state – and if they were, two months is far too young to try. Read More
I’ve sporadically attended the same Congregational Church for almost all of my life. I was baptized there and went through years of Sunday School as a child. In the pews, I’d see my friends, next door neighbors, and several teachers.
I went to preschool in the building (where my mother was President of the PTA), raced pinewood derby cars as a cub scout in their rec room, and participated in the Christmas play.
If there was ever a place I felt like I belonged, it was at my church – until I learned I didn’t. Read More
April Fool’s Day celebrates humor that’s devoid of wit; it brings out all of the schmucks, especially the marketers who try to “win” the day with a viral campaign.
Pranks just don’t translate well online.
I miss the analog age of April Fool’s Day – back when you could shove a friend into a pool without first asking if he had his phone on him. Read More
Participating in school musicals is the most on-point preparation I’ve had for parenting.
They prepared me for the clunky emotional transitions that have me spontaneously bursting into song whenever it seems like the baby might cry.
I always found it peculiar when townspeople in musicals started bouncing up and down to ramp up a song from the leading man, but then I had a baby and started immediately bouncing her on my knee at the slightest sign of a furrowed brow.
Oh, we’ve got trouble my friend, right here in infant city. Read More
If my cats saw a pet carrier, they knew they were going to the vet.
Yet when my baby sees her car seat she just sits there trying to figure out what the wiggly things are connected to her hand. Spoiler alert: they’re fingers. Read More