The Worst Kids Ever
Despite all my whining, I love my son. He’s a pain, but he’s my pain.
It’s other people’s sons – and daughters – that are the problem.
Despite all my whining, I love my son. He’s a pain, but he’s my pain.
It’s other people’s sons – and daughters – that are the problem.
Last time we had to name a baby, it was a struggle. There are a ton of terrible names out there, and the list grows with every new series of young adult science-fiction books.
We lucked out and the name we chose ended up perfectly suiting Detective Munch.
But we left one name in the holster that might have made even more sense. Maybe it will work this time around.
It’s World Breastfeeding Week. I don’t think that means I get to partake, but I’m gonna go ahead and support it anyway. I mean, there’s no point in stopping now.
A few months ago I wrote something about breastfeeding, in which I suggested that many of us do far more disgusting things in public than those mothers who dare keep their helpless children alive through the miracle of biology.
The uproar over seeing a woman do something so natural, necessary and worthwhile always confuses me. But I think I’ve finally figured out why it makes some people so upset.
Read more about [E-card] What Breastfeeding Says About You …
Nothing is more joyous than getting your kids to bed for the night.
Unfortunately, when their bedtime routine is finally completed, you’re usually too spent to take advantage.
I’ve always found it annoying that it’s so hard to stay mad at my son. Even when he’s being horrible, he’s still adorable. It’s sickening.
I’ve written about the way biology tricks us before – little kids are really just one long con, suckering us with their cuteness only to obliterate our lives when they get older – but there are some perks to the biological bond we have with our children.
Especially when they need some TLC.