25 Mar

Dad and Buried Posted in discipline 2 comments

Good Cop/Bad Cop

I’m used to my son preferring my wife. I’m okay with it. It has its perks. Besides, young boys often favor their mothers. It’s biology.

It’s not like my kid and I aren’t close. Yesterday I pretended to eat his face and this morning he told me he doesn’t like it when I breathe. We’re buds!

But as we navigate the threenage wasteland, Mom and Buried and I often have to resort to some good cop/bad cop parenting, which is pretty typical. Unfortunately I’m usually the bad cop.

No wonder he likes Mommy better.

The Happiness Problem

My son turned three and half the other day. My wife threw him a little party.

Few things seem so obviously tailor-made for a Dad and Buried rant as the absurdity of half-birthdays. Unfortunately, when my wife got excited about Detective Munch’s mini-milestone, I found myself swept up in half-birthday fever myself, against my better judgment.

Despite my reservations – about spoiling the kid; about rewarding him for nothing; about the fact that his terrible threes haven’t exactly been his behavioral high-point so why the fuck should he get an extra made-up holiday right smack in the middle of it? – I helped celebrate it. Enthusiastically. We gave him a toy truck and a cupcake!

I think I’m part of the problem. I sang “Happy half-birthday” to him, for Christ’s sake.

Read more about The Happiness Problem …

11 Mar

Dad and Buried Posted in discipline 7 comments

Threenage Wasteland

By now, everyone knows the “terrible twos” are a myth.

Okay, maybe not a myth, because I’m sure they suck for many parents, but for many other parents, like Yours Truly, it’s year number three that proves to be far more harrowing.

Mom and Buried and I are now halfway through this “threenage wasteland” and we can’t wait for it to end.

Which, presumably, will be when he turns four, right? Unless there’s already some clever phrase for our son to live up to for that year, like the FOUR-ror Show.

Or maybe something better. Shut up.

Opinion Hated

My son can talk, which is great. Less great is that he can’t seem to stop talking.

Seriously. My kid never stops babbling. But that’s okay. The trouble isn’t that he talks, or even what he says, since a lot of the things he says are cute. He says things he doesn’t understand, and it’s hilarious when kids say darnd things. I won’t brag and say my son says the darndEST things, because I’m not a braggart, and besides, that’s for Bill Cosby to decide. But Detective Munch definitely says some pretty darnd things.

The trouble begins when we actually listen to them.

Zombie Post: Lesson Not Yet Learned

For my latest Zombie Post, I wanted to check in on my own progress. It’s not looking good. Almost a year ago, I wrote the post below, about my realization that raising a good kid means I’ll need to retrain myself. Being a good parent doesn’t mean you have to change your personality but itRead more about Zombie Post: Lesson Not Yet Learned[…]

Dad and Buried

Tag: discipline

Good Cop/Bad Cop

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The Happiness Problem

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Threenage Wasteland

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Opinion Hated

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Zombie Post: Lesson Not Yet Learned

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