I love my kids, I just hate parenting
Despite my incredible and potentially family-exploding advice, I am not a parenting expert.
But neither was Giorgio a musical prodigy when he discovered the sound of the future. Nor was penicillin discovered on purpose.
Sometimes you just get lucky.
Like I did when I discovered the key to successful parenting.
You hit the jackpot.
You’re able to get away for a night or two, get someone to watch the kid and grab a nice dinner, get a nice buzz, and relax. You’re granted a brief reprieve from the terrible twos or terrible threes or whatever the case may be, and you have a well-deserved night or two of child-free fun. It’s been a long time coming, and it won’t be coming along again anytime soon.
And yet, despite your need for time away from him, you can’t help but miss your kid. Despite your better instincts, you actually can’t wait to get home and see him!
Until you do.
![[E-card] Never Forget](https://dadandburied.com/wp-content/themes/llorix-one-lite/images/no-thumbnail-mobile.jpg)
My son loves riding the merry-go-round at our local park.
He used to prefer the stationary animals, or even one of the stupid sled things, but as he’s become more enamored with the carousel he’s graduated to the real shit: the animals that slide up and down. I’m glad; there’s little point in even going on the thing if you’re not on one of those.
On our latest trip, I saw that my wife was letting our son ride some overgrown cat thing all by himself. And she chose to ride the animal next to him, rather than stand at his side to make sure he didn’t fall off! I sat on the sidelines (I chose the bench outside because going in circles makes my tummy hurt), panicking as my moron of a son repeatedly took one hand off the pole to wave at me as he went by. Meanwhile, Mom and Buried wasn’t even breaking a sweat.
I need to woman up. My wife has bigger balls than me.