08 May

Dad and Buried Posted in Decipherists 2 comments

The Decipherists: Coo-coo

My kid is a babbler. Always has been. Since the day he was born he’s been making noises with his mouth.

At the start there wasn’t much substance to the things he was “saying” – they were the typical ga-gas and wah-wahs and MMMBop sounds that all babies make. But, striver that he is, he has never rested; in his ongoing quest to master the English language, he makes great strides everyday.

Of course, as I said yesterday, children are stupid, and the strides our son has made are great only when compared to other people under two. They’re not all that impressive when compared with, say, Noam Chomsky.

At a year-and-a-half old, while his vocabulary has been growing exponentially, he hasn’t even reached the level of “darndest” yet.

30 Apr

Dad and Buried Posted in Learning 4 comments

Approaching the Terrible Twos

I was under the impression that the Terrible Twos started when the kid actually turns two. Hence the name.

But I think I was wrong.

Because my son is 19 months old, a good half-year away from being two, and things are already getting pretty darn terrible.

20 Apr

Dad and Buried Posted in Fear 3 comments

Going Soft

Despite my best efforts, I think I’m going soft. My son is turning me into a wuss.

My wife likes to “joke” that I am a robot (I use quotes because she’s never laughing when she says it and I’m pretty sure it tears her up inside), or that I have no heart, because I never cry at commercials or movies or TV shows.

I like to think it’s because I’m not shallow and/or because my father raised me to believe that showing emotion was a sign of weakness (my father is John Wayne).

But having a child seems to be reducing my stoicism in uncomfortable ways. I’m beginning to care about people.

Dealing with Tantrums

Ah, tantrums. Even the word sucks. But it’s got nothing on the experience.

When you have a toddler, they are impossible to avoid. But, rumor has it there are ways to defuse them.

If you’ve got the balls.

Read more about Dealing with Tantrums …

11 Apr

Dad and Buried Posted in Drinking No comments

Of Allergies and Effigies

Every Spring, for the past two years, I have been faced with a crippling bout of allergies. I never really had them before, so their onset is a tad confusing. I’ve lived in NYC for more than four years now, in the same neighborhood, so as much as this Red Sox fan would love to, I can’t blame the Big Apple.

I’d like to blame the trees, but Marky Mark made that seem too ridiculous. I’d also like to blame The Trees, but my days of listening to Rush were long gone well before the allergies set in.

So after a brief, slightly ill-considered, largely well-inebriated period of elimination, I’ve come to a startling conclusion: I’m allergic to my son.

Dad and Buried

Category: Shut Up

The Decipherists: Coo-coo

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Approaching the Terrible Twos

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Going Soft

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Dealing with Tantrums

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Of Allergies and Effigies

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