Disney’s World

Disney’s World

Earlier this year, when I wrote about the lack of Disney in children’s lives earlier this year, a few people chimed in to tell me I have a blind spot because I don’t have a daughter.

Which is exactly right.

But Disney is not just about girls – nor is it particularly absent – when you consider all the properties they own. Which you’ll be able to do at will this fall, since Disney is now on Netflix.

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Begun, the PopWars Have

Begun, the PopWars Have

I love popcorn.

Last night I actually woke up with a stomachache because I ate too much popcorn. But that won’t stop me from being a popcorn fan, intestinal pain be damned!

I also love Star Wars. I’ve actually woken up in pain at the memory of the prequels. But that won’t stop me from being hopeful about the upcoming movie, Harrison Ford looking 300-years-old/not having been good in a movie in 300 years be damned!

My son also loves both of these things. More importantly, he knows I love them.

I have a bad feeling about this.
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Mom Fails

Mom Fails

According to the hourly reminders that someone set on my phone, Mother’s Day is this weekend. It’s the one solitary day all year long that anyone ever says anything nice about moms.

Psst! That last line was a little bit of sarcasm. Because let’s face it, when it comes to parenting, moms already get all the praise. (Not that I’m complaining.)

Sure, that “praise” often calcifies into “being taken for granted,” which is just about complaint #1 from women everywhere (along with “I want more romance/passion!” and “socks go IN the hamper, not NEAR the hamper!”) but if you think about it, it’s a positive thing! Abilities and skills are only taken for granted once someone comes to rely on them. Kudos, moms everywhere! You’ve raised the bar for yourselves.

Unfortunately, that bar is often just a little too high for your liking. So I’m going to level the playing field.

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Scar Wars

Scar Wars

My son hasn’t seen Star Wars yet!

But thanks to its pop culture ubiquity, he definitely knows about it. Whether or not the kids themselves have seen the movies, my son’s preschool classmates wear shirts emblazoned with the different characters, Detective Munch himself has a toy light-saber, and he’s already announced that he wants to be Darth Vader for next Halloween. (He’s also announced that he wants to be Thor, Captain America, Iron Man, Batman, and the Joker, so let’s give it some time before we buy the next costume.) Sight unseen!

Recently he even asked me if he could watch it “someday,” a question I could barely even answer due to my enormous grin.

Like every dad whose childhood was shaped by the original trilogy, I am dying to show it to my son. But I’m exercising restraint. Because Mom and Buried.

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The Urinating is the Hardest Part

The Urinating is the Hardest Part

And so it begins.

To be honest, it probably should’ve started already, but Dad and Buried has been a little pee-shy, as in: I don’t want to help my son pee. I’ve been dreading this whole stage in my son’s development. Not because it signifies him getting older, but because I’m clueless. And it signifies him getting more inconvenient.

Now, with summer approaching, and a new preschool looming in the fall, it’s time: my son needs to be potty trained.

As the stay-at-home parent, it trickles down to me to fulfill this duty.

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