05 Sep

Dad and Buried Posted in Fear 53 comments

Why I Vaccinated My Son

Look, I don’t know if vaccines cause autism. Or Guillian-Barre Syndrome. Or seizures. I don’t think they do, but I could be wrong.

Believe me, I like a good conspiracy as much as the next person, and I hate Big Pharma as much as the next person, and I am probably more cynical than most people. And I believe there are plenty of smart, well-educated, equally cynical, equally sane people who have good reason to think vaccinations have harmed their children in a variety of ways. I don’t know if they’re right. I’m not a scientist, I haven’t done the experiments. Maybe they have (they haven’t).

But for me, right and wrong isn’t the point. For me, it comes down to risk.

02 Sep

Dad and Buried Posted in discipline 3 comments

Hard Knock Life

The other day, during a particularly stressful endurance test at the dinner table, Mom and Buried chided me for getting so frustrated at Detective Munch’s eating (or lack thereof) habits. She told me that I needed to step back and realize that as hard as parenting can be, it’s pretty tough to be a three-year-old too.

My inadequacy as a father notwithstanding – although I would argue that no parent should be judged by their reaction to a toddler’s dinnertime hi-jinks – that’s some bullshit right there.

Today Ask Your Dad Blog, Tomorrow the World!

Last week I posted a quick little update about the passing of my son’s afternoon nap on Facebook. Upon reading it, my archenemy at Ask Your Dad Blog, John Kinnear, told me he wished he had written it and proceeded to beg me to tell everyone he had. When I refused, he requested that IRead more about Today Ask Your Dad Blog, Tomorrow the World![…]

11 Aug

Dad and Buried Posted in Future 11 comments

Label War

For reasons that make little sense to my readers, my wife, or even myself, I often refer to my son as Detective Munch. But that’s almost exclusively online; I never call him that to his face.

No, to his face I call him all manner of things, some of which rhyme with his actual name (there aren’t a lot of options; his actual name is Pantry), some of which rhyme with grass-pole, and most of which are just nonsense words because I’m more of a child than he is.

Aside from causing some identity-confusion that could come back to haunt us both and the occasional scolding from Mom and Buried, the nonsense nicknames I give my son are harmless. They’re just a way for me to be affectionate with him when I can’t remember his real name and don’t want him to know I’ve forgotten.

But since I don’t use his real name online, I’m starting to run out of ways to refer to him, especially as he gets older.

Moms are Overrated

For the third week this month, Mom and Buried is traveling and I’m on my own with my kid.

DON’T PANIC. We’re okay.

Sure, maybe the first time my wife went away I was all: what am I gonna do? But several weeks in and now I’m all: ain’t no thing but a chicken wing on a string. I’m a real-life dad, not a Seth Macfarlane character; I can handle it. Newsflash: it’s parenting, not the Thunderdome, and dads can do it just as well as moms.

I’d even venture to say we do it better.

Dad and Buried

Category: Future

Why I Vaccinated My Son

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Hard Knock Life

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Today Ask Your Dad Blog, Tomorrow the World!

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Label War

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Moms are Overrated

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