Rules for Dating My Son

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.

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I Hate Pregnancy Announcements

I Hate Pregnancy Announcements

I hate pregnancy announcements, and not just the ones with the terrifying 3-D sonograms.

I’m a reasonable guy. I like to get noticed as much as the next person who has a blog and a Facebook page and a Twitter account. Believe me, I know how strong the pull of social media is; I struggle with it every day.

Luckily, when it comes to Dad and Buried-related stuff, I have a bit of an out: I write in character and I keep my D&B accounts mostly separate from my personal ones. But even there I don’t broadcast every moment of my life. Case in point, my non-D&B Facebook wall is almost entirely links to the Onion.

Which is where you’d expect to find some of the outlandish pregnancy announcements that have been all over the internet lately.

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Cultural Differences or Child Abuse?

Cultural Differences or Child Abuse?

I wouldn’t expect you to understand. If you’re not from here, it must seem alien to you.

Around these parts we do things differently, and if you’re not born and raised in this culture, you’re probably never going to get it. We eat different foods, we use different slang, we wear different clothes, and yes, we discipline our children differently.

So I can’t condemn Adrian Peterson for what he did. It’s a part of his culture.

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Nobody Hates Kids More Than Parents

Nobody Hates Kids More Than Parents

Controversy recently ignited when a popular Northern California restaurant posted a sign aggressively banning unruly children and babies from their establishment.

Yesterday, on the heels of this, I shared an old post I wrote about the divide between parents and non-parents, which, if the collection of comments and emails and death threats I receive whenever I post something on The Huffington Post is any indication, seems pretty wide these days.

Whether you’ve read that old post of mine or not, you probably assume I’m outraged at the restaurant for its “no loud kids” policy, like a lot of my fellow parents. But I actually don’t have a problem with it.

Funny thing about parents: we hate kids.
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Moms are Overrated

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.

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