Label War

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.

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Permissive Parenting

Permissive Parenting

Last week, when I asked my Facebook followers for topic ideas, someone suggested I tackle the mixed feelings parents have when their kids misbehave. Which almost sounds crazy. Why would anyone have anything but bad feelings when their kids misbehave?

Then, earlier this week, I got yelled at by a bunch of people who got angry that I let my son run rampant on airplanes. Never mind that I don’t do that, and that my son has (thus far) been very well-behaved on airplanes; these people said HURTFUL things that MADE ME CRY.

And it got me reconsidering that reader’s request, especially since I suddenly and strongly want my kid to misbehave on our next flight, just out of spite.

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Development Hell

Development Hell

The beginning of parenthood is boring. Not uneventful – lots of shit happens (literally) – but repetitive and monotonous.

It’s hard too, but mostly because it’s new, not because it’s particularly challenging. (Unless your baby has colic, in which case just drop him into a volcano and start over.) You’re tired all the time, you’re stressed all the time, you’re concerned about things you’d never thought about before, etc., but that stuff’s mostly just inconvenient (and being an adult).

Of course, when you’re a new parent, you don’t always realize that merely being inconvenienced by your kids is about the best you can hope for. Welcome to development hell!

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Swear Tactics

Swear Tactics

Over the weekend, my son unleashed his first swear word.

The chosen curse was “bitch!” And as far as Mom and Buried and I could tell, he didn’t direct it at anyone. He just kind of said it. And it was pretty evident that he had no idea what it meant.

But that didn’t stop the Buried household from doing some soul-searching. Nobody wants to raise an asshole.

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