I love my kids, I just hate parenting
About a year ago, I found myself doing some light googling to investigate whether it was possible for my son to be having nightmares at such a young age. It turns out it was. So I wrote a post about the phenomenon (resurrected below), in which I speculated about what a year-and-a-half old baby couldRead more about Zombie Post: Something Frigid This Way Comes[…]
As I discussed last week, Christmas is a double-edged sword.
The kid got way too many toys for Christmas and he had way too many toys already. But it’s not always the quantity of toys that is the problem. It’s the quality. Some toys are educational, some are musical, some are harmless and some are the devil.
Every kid has received a gift that immediately becomes the bane of their parents’ existence, for a variety of potential reasons. After a morning spent nursing a headache one of those gifts had given me, I reached out online and asked other parents what one gift they wished their child had never received, and why.
Here were the top three responses, plus one slightly more universal item:
Sometimes I worry that I love my son too much.
I was thinking about that this Christmas, when I saw the haul of toys he received from his parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles, and watched as he was indoctrinated into the Culture of More. It definitely made for a fun holiday – the joy of little kids can be contagious – but it also made me nervous.
There’s a reason we call it “spoiling.” Overindulgence breeds assholes.
The last time I wrote about my son’s penis, it ignited a firestorm in the comments.
(Seriously. The two most controversial posts I’ve written have been about circumcision and My Little Pony.)
This one isn’t about anything nearly as controversial as men who like cartoons that are made for little girls, but it does involve my son being naked. I also threw Return of the Jedi into it. So maybe the Bronies and the anti-circumcision crowd can find some common ground when I talk about…
BATH TIME!
I’ve been here almost two weeks now, and as I prepare for my first official Thanksgiving as a North Carolinian, I’ve decided that even if I can’t be expected to totally embrace my new surroundings, I can at least do my best to help my son acclimate.
After all, there are certainly some lessons he could learn from his fellow (gulp) Southerners.
Like their kindness. Or at least their courtesy.