Children are Mirrors

Children are Mirrors

Children are mirrors.

When I concentrate really hard, I do this thing with my face where my features get scrunched up all tight. My wife blames this expression for my increasing wrinkles and constantly attempts to stop me from doing it (despite the fact that I can still pass for 18!) I see her point, and I’d love to stop creating crow’s feet. But it’s impossible; it’s genetic.

I’ve seen my father make the same face, for the same reasons, and now I’m waiting to see it on Detective Munch’s chubby little visage. He already looks a lot like me, and it’s so gratifying to see him take on some of my characteristics that I’m okay with adding the wrinkle-maker to that collection.

Unfortunately, it has yet to happen. But I have seen him reflect back aspects of myself that are not quite as amusing.

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Zombie Post: Welcome to the “Neighborhood”

Zombie Post: Welcome to the “Neighborhood”

Mom and Buried showed the kid an old “Mr. Rogers” episode the other day. To my surprise, he sat in rapt attention for the entirety of the the episode. He can’t get enough of it! He’s constantly asking to hear “the neighbor song.” We try not to let him watch too much TV, but heRead more about Zombie Post: Welcome to the “Neighborhood”[…]

The Art of the Underreaction

The Art of the Underreaction

Years ago, Mom and Buried and I learned a parenting lesson we’d never forget: keep calm and parent on!

A woman and her son were walking around Fenway Park, the little boy happily toting a Red Sox balloon. All of a sudden, the balloon popped. We steeled ourselves for a meltdown. But his quick-thinking mother defused the situation.

She responded immediately with a wide smile and a big laugh, brightly exclaiming, “Your balloon popped! Who cares, right?” In no time, her son was laughing along with her. She’d thwarted his natural inclination towards getting upset by treating the whole thing as no big deal. When he saw that Mommy didn’t care, suddenly neither did he.

Even without kids, I knew it was a brilliant move. Years later, with a two-year-old of my own, her underreaction seems just as brilliant, even more essential, and a lot harder than it looked.

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I Learned It By Watching Someone Else!

I Learned It By Watching Someone Else!

My son is at the age where he’s constantly imitating his parents, which is cute, but could eventually get problematic, especially once he can really talk. My wife and I haven’t yet gotten the hang of the whole “we’re role models” aspect of parenting and we swear like sailors (foul-mouthed sailors.) So I worry that our son is going to pick up some bad habits.

That said, I’m not letting some snot-nosed little kid change my personality/behavior/way of life. I mean, I’m like ten times his size and a LOT smarter. A LOT SMARTER. I could literally throw him in the cabinet under the sink and go watch March Madness all day while wearing a beer helmet and he couldn’t do a thing about it. He can’t work latches! So no, I’m not changing for some mush-mouthed nincompoop, not after working my ass off all week long. I’ve gotta live my life too, junior!

But I still want him to grow up right, just without, ya know, working hard at raising him. So, as we Americans do, I sought out a short-cut. And I found one, in television.

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