The Gifts That Keep on Giving… Headaches

The Gifts That Keep on Giving… Headaches

As I discussed last week, Christmas is a double-edged sword.

The kid got way too many toys for Christmas and he had way too many toys already. But it’s not always the quantity of toys that is the problem. It’s the quality. Some toys are educational, some are musical, some are harmless and some are the devil.

Every kid has received a gift that immediately becomes the bane of their parents’ existence, for a variety of potential reasons. After a morning spent nursing a headache one of those gifts had given me, I reached out online and asked other parents what one gift they wished their child had never received, and why.

Here were the top three responses, plus one slightly more universal item:

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The Boy Who Cried Gibberish

The Boy Who Cried Gibberish

A few people have mentioned to Mom and Buried and me that Detective Munch has a good vocabulary for a kid his age. I don’t disagree, I mean, I’ve got him speaking jive, singing Christmas (and Beastie Boys) songs, and telling people “See ya later, alligator!” He can say some solid stuff.

Of course, he’s only two, so his vocabulary isn’t that good. Plus, a lot of the things he says are barely recognizable as English, and are probably only decipherable by me and Mom and Buried, if at all. And that so-called good vocabulary gets a lot worse when he’s distraught.

When he’s upset, whether it’s because he’s being a brat or because he got a boo-boo, words go out the window. Which can make solving – or even identifying – the problem quite tricky.

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The Papa Master: Five Ways My Kid Controls Me

The Papa Master: Five Ways My Kid Controls Me

Nobody wants their kids to run their lives.

Mom and Buried and I are doing a pretty good job of preventing our little tyrant from eliminating all of our free time (i.e., our drinking) and running roughshod all over our social lives (i.e., our drinking with friends), but, fantastic parents that we are, we still spend a lot of time with our son, doing what he wants. Or what we think he needs. Or what we think he’s saying he wants (he still doesn’t do English so good).

And while we do our best to have separate identities other than just “Mom” and “Dad,” there are still times he has control of our lives. And, in some cases, our bodies.

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A Royal Pain

A Royal Pain

In case you haven’t heard, a couple of celebrities are having a baby!!!!

Complications aside, that’s what Kate Middleton’s pregnancy boils down to. The Royals over in England have long ceased meaning much politically and are now merely celebrities; attractive, wholesome celebrities. But, no surprise, the media is treating this like the biggest thing since Kate Middleton got married. Which was also meaningless, especially in the face of Pippa’s glorious rump.

I sympathize with the Duke and Duchess. Because being pregnant is a pain in the ass, but that’s nothing compared to being pregnant under the glare of the entire Western media. Which is itself nothing compared to the royal pain in the ass that is owning a child, celebrity or not.

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Who Does My Son Take After

Who Does My Son Take After

Parenting isn’t a competition.

When it comes to raising kids, comparing how you’re doing to other parents or measuring your kid’s development against others their age is just not a good idea. Children are like snowflakes – annoying, loud, inconvenient, smelly snowflakes. They’re all annoying and loud and inconvenient and smelly in their own unique ways.

Every parent is unique too. We all have different styles, even compared to our spouses. Making it about who’s winning is poisonous to your relationship and potentially damaging to your offspring.

That said, when it comes to which parent Detective Munch takes after, I am totally crushing my wife.

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