The Disease of More

The Disease of More

My 7-year-old always wants more.

He wants more toys, even though he doesn’t play with half the ones he has. He wants more dessert, even when he can barely ask for it because his mouth is already full of dessert. He wants more time before bed, which he usually gets by tortuously extending the bedtime routine. All this demand for more makes me want less — less whining, less stress, less kids!

Of course, children aren’t the only ones who want more. Adults have the same obsession, especially parents.

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Your Old Man’s Money

Your Old Man’s Money

I’ve been turning into my father for years now, probably since I was born, actually.

But nothing accelerates the transformation into your parents like becoming a parent yourself.

The best evidence that I’m becoming my dad, besides increasing back pain and deepening bags under my eyes, are the things I yell at my kids about. Like money.

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The Parenting Perks of New York City

The Parenting Perks of New York City

This morning, my wife texted me in a panic because she couldn’t find her membership card to the Staten Island Children’s Museum she wanted to visit with our kids.

Later, she texted me a photo of my 7-month-old at a museum, putting some filth-ridden toy in his mouth, the goofy idiot. I texted back, both to insult my son for being a goofy idiot and to ask at which museum she’d ended up, because I knew she’d never found her membership card.

I also knew that didn’t matter. Because we live in New York City.

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Treat Yo Self

Treat Yo Self

Children are expensive.

And not just like, “Wow, I didn’t expect it to cost that much!” expensive, more like, “Wow, the cost of this item is really cramping my style, I should probably return it!” expensive, and maybe even “I bet if I sold this I’d make a fortune!” expensive.

They’re the kind of expensive that makes you question your life choices. Parents need some guilt-free spending to offset our crushed dreams.

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Wherefore Art Thou, Disney?

Wherefore Art Thou, Disney?

When I was a kid, we visited Disney World.

At some point we ended up on a breakfast cruise, and there are pictures of me there, cherub-faced and smiling wide, surrounded by Mickey and Minnie, Chip and Dale, Cinderella, and assorted other Disney characters. I don’t remember it, but I’ve seen pictures, and I have no doubt it was one of the happiest days of my life. (We visited Disneyland too, but come on. There’s a reason all the pictures from that trip are from Universal Studios.)

I worshiped Disney as a kid. My five-year-old has no idea what Disney is.

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