Terrible Tips for Flying with Kids

Terrible Tips for Flying with Kids

On Tuesday, the Huffington Post shared an article called “9 Things Kids Can Play With In-flight That Don’t Involve Technology” and I’m still laughing at this list.

I’ve read a lot of stupid things in my life, many of them on this very blog. But I’m not sure I’ve read anything quite this delusional lately. (And I once compared my son to a bird!)

I may not truck with parents apologizing for flying with kids, but I would never willfully abuse my fellow passengers. Which is essentially what these suggestions boil down to.

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Growing Up (Not So) Fast

Growing Up (Not So) Fast

It’s rare to find a parent who didn’t measure the passage of time by juxtaposing pictures of their kid’s first day of school in September with their kid’s last day of school in June.

And then, with a mixture of pride (“He did it!”) and petulance (“He’s growing up too fast!”), they bemoan the passage of time, whine about how fast it’s all going, and bitch about how quickly kids grow up.

I call bullshit.

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How to Talk to Parents

How to Talk to Parents

Parents are a pretty sensitive group.

Perhaps because they themselves are the Kings of the Judgers, parents are more attuned to perceived slights than most. No group of people is more “victimized” than parents — and the word “victimized” is in quotes for exactly the reason you think it is.

These days, there’s just not a lot you can get away with saying to or about moms and dads without someone getting offended. You have to use your words very carefully.

You’d probably have better luck suggesting that Hitler had some good ideas than saying just about anything about parenting to a parent.

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Parenting Out of Context

Parenting Out of Context

A few weeks ago, I questioned whether I am a good parent. My answer was no.

Both before and since I posted that piece, I’ve been told I’m a good dad, by family members, by online acquaintances, by total strangers who read my blog and follow my Facebook page.

But I don’t believe the hype.

Not because they’re wrong; despite my hand-wringing, I’m probably a pretty good dad. (And even if I’m not, it probably doesn’t matter.)

Because they have no idea.

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