07 Nov

Dad and Buried Posted in Drinking 4 comments

Less Stressful Than Parenting

This morning I went to the DMV.

I don’t even have to say anything else; you already know how my morning went. Add subway troubles and tax issues to that and you’ll have a decent idea of why my Friday is starting to feel like a Monday.

The good news is that when I get home there’s a decent chance my son will tell me he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore before spending a large chunk of the three hours before he goes to bed screaming and whining and being put in time-out.

Suddenly the DMV doesn’t seem so bad.

23 Oct

Dad and Buried Posted in discipline 14 comments

Boys Need Protection Too

Last week, I posted something of a response to the hilarious “if you touch my daughter I’ll kill you!” stance that many fathers enjoy taking when their daughters start dating. I wrote the post to make light of the idea that it’s supercool for adults to threaten children with violence.

As I was writing, I found myself worrying about my credibility on the topic, because I don’t have a daughter who might one day be asked to prom by a leering, peach-fuzzed boy with only one thing on his mind and it’s not matchbox cars I’ll tell you that much!

I only have a son. And boys don’t need protection.

Right?

13 Oct

Dad and Buried Posted in discipline 9 comments

Rules for Dating My Son

My son is only four, but with the speed at which children grow up these days, it won’t be long before he starts going on dates. So I thought I’d write a little something to anyone who is considering going to the drive-in and the ice cream stand – or maybe the roller rink and soda shop? I’m out of touch – with my son. Some rules for dating him.

(If you have a daughter, try these or these, from much nicer people than me.)

He’s a friendly, good-looking kid, so I don’t blame you for being interested. Just be careful. If you want to date my son, it’s your funeral.

09 Oct

Dad and Buried Posted in Drinking 73 comments

Health Scare

Do you like being scared? It’s October, so there’s no better time, right?

Well, forget vampires and mummies and werewolves and celebrities without makeup, I have a foolproof way to give yourself the willies:

Have kids.

Cry School

With apologies to Tom Petty, the waiting actually ain’t so bad. It’s the separating that’s the hardest part. Especially when it comes to dropping my kid off at school.

He’s only four years old, so I’m not talking about sending him off to college, or even to the military academy he’ll definitely be attending if he doesn’t shape up! I’m talking about sending him to pre-kindergaten. Where he eats paste for six hours.

If he can’t figure out how to handle that, I’m going to start eating paste. After my nervous breakdown.

Dad and Buried

Category: Fear

Less Stressful Than Parenting

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