10
Sep
Category: Learning
08
Sep
My Son is Making Me Feel Old
Tomorrow is my birthday. (No gifts please, just Facebook likes. Trying to hit 10k!)
I don’t really worry much about my birthdays. Despite my steadily increasing amount of grey hairs and my steadily decreasing amount of all hairs (REVERSE JINX!), I’m not one to panic about my age. At least not yet. (Ask me again in two years, when I’m hitting 40.)
Of course, having a kid forces one to reevaluate the passage of time, and having a kid whose birthday is a mere six days after mine isn’t helping.
It’s almost like he’s chasing me.
02
Sep
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.
11
Aug
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.
21
Jul
Bet On It
Over the weekend, professional golfer Rory McIlroy won the Open Championship. In the process he netted $1.66 million.
His father, meanwhile, scored big himself, having placed a bet in 2005 that his son would win the Open Championship by 2015. Daddy McIlroy collected (approximately) $171,000 merely for having confidence in his son’s golfing ability.
Which got me thinking…
What would I bet on my own son to accomplish within the next 10 years?