I love my kids, I just hate parenting
My wife is pregnant. Capital-P pregnant. Like, nearly ten months, ready to burst, hating life, “why did I do this?” pregnant.
I am not pregnant. But, out of solidarity, I spent the holidays doing my best to make it seem like I was. Because I’m a good husband.
And a stupid idiot.
A kid in my high school biology class once asked our teacher if a woman could give birth to a snake. And we’ve been close friends ever since!
Thankfully, none of Mom and Buried’s ultrasounds have shown a cobra. And I already have a kid. So even though I’m not a biology teacher, and it’s been five years since I’ve had a newborn baby around and I don’t remember much about how to care for one, I have a pretty good idea of what’s coming (sometime in the next two weeks).
Yet despite the fact that I have an existing child on whom to base my expectations for my second baby’s personality and appearance, in reality, I don’t have a clue. And that’s got me pretty excited.
This isn’t about dangerous toys. I honestly wouldn’t even know where to begin such a list. When I was a kid, if you wore a bike helmet you were King Dork of Nerd Mountain. Nowadays, you need a helmet just to ride the school bus or you’ll end up suing the NFL.
The standards for safety have changed so drastically that I’ve pretty much stopped giving my kid anything that has corners. (I’m not even joking: my son has never had a Saltine. NOTHING BUT RITZ.)
Instead, this list is about the worst gifts for kids. Not all kids, like I said, I can’t speak to that. These are the worst gifts to buy your own children.
A few years ago, I created a few memes based around the way my toddler had commandeered different aspects of my life. Little did I know, I had barely seen the tip of the iceberg. But you all knew!
I recently asked for some submissions from my readers of photos that might make good “got toddlered” material. And I got some doozies.
Being as the holiday is only two days away, today’s new “Got Toddlered” is a Christmas edition!
Detective Munch has been the VIP of my family for the last five years.
He’s the only grandchild my parents have, the only nephew my brothers have, and the only kid Mom and Buried and I have. As such, he’s been living the high life, as the center of attention, the sole attraction, the primary beneficiary. And, mostly, as the getter of the leeway.
But his gravy train is about to crash.