Allergic Reaction

Allergic Reaction

Every once in a while, particularly during the back-to-school season, we see a flurry of blog posts and articles about allergies.

The posts typically concern one of two things, depending on the proclivities of the author:

1) Please don’t bring [this thing that my child is deathly allergic to] to school, I’m begging you! or;
2) Whatever, I don’t care if your kid dies.

My son has a pretty severe tree nut allergy. Guess which category this post falls into?

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Must Love Tolerate Dogs

Must Love Tolerate Dogs

When my wife and I moved in together, one of the first things we did was get a cat. (The next 500 things we did were have arguments about what we would name the cat.)

The cat and I were best buds. The cat and my wife were frenemies. The cat and the world-at-large were chilly acquaintances. The cat and my son? Unfortunately, they never had a chance to get to know each other.

Now that he’s getting a little older, that’s something I want to correct.

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The Birds and the Bees. Minus the Birds.

The Birds and the Bees. Minus the Birds.

Recent circumstances are forcing me to consider explaining some of life’s most difficult truths to my young son.

He is still a few months away from his second birthday, but some conversations just can’t wait. The world just moves too darn fast to take any chances.

It’s time I talk to him about “the birds and the bees.”

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Of Allergies and Effigies

Of Allergies and Effigies

Every Spring, for the past two years, I have been faced with a crippling bout of allergies. I never really had them before, so their onset is a tad confusing. I’ve lived in NYC for more than four years now, in the same neighborhood, so as much as this Red Sox fan would love to, I can’t blame the Big Apple.

I’d like to blame the trees, but Marky Mark made that seem too ridiculous. I’d also like to blame The Trees, but my days of listening to Rush were long gone well before the allergies set in.

So after a brief, slightly ill-considered, largely well-inebriated period of elimination, I’ve come to a startling conclusion: I’m allergic to my son.

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Allergies: Yet Another Way My Son is Ruining My Life

Allergies: Yet Another Way My Son is Ruining My Life

Ever see that Brady Bunch episode where it seemed that Jan might be allergic to Mr. Brady? They actually considered a divorce! That actually happened. Just amazing television. What’s next, a series about a diminutive black child who lives with rich white people in a mansion?

Anyway, my wife took my son to the allergist yesterday and guess what happened? Not what happened in The Brady Bunch.

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