The Parents’ Passive-Aggressive Holiday Gift Guide

The Parents’ Passive-Aggressive Holiday Gift Guide

As you know, I have a son. He’s three years old and I love him to death. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me that I occasionally wish had never happened to me.

This Christmas is the first time he really, truly gets it, to the point that he actively flips through circulars and points at the toys he wants added to his list (two years ago I wrote about the gifts he won’t be getting). We’re going to give him a good Christmas, and he’ll get more than he needs, much more than he deserves, and nowhere near as much as he wants.

All I want in return is a smile and some laughter and a lot less screaming. And, because I’m petty and small, I wouldn’t mind if he experienced a little bit of the frustration that the holiday season brings me.

With that in mind, I put together a list of items you can get for your young children that will give you as much joy as Christmas gives them by giving them as much aggravation as your kids sometimes give you.

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Fine. I’ll Give Some Thanks.

Fine. I’ll Give Some Thanks.

I’m not really the thankful type.

That’s not to say I’m not thankful for things, I’m just not the kind of guy that runs around telling people what I’m thankful for or how blessed I am.

But Thanksgiving is the one day a year even people like me are supposed to gush a bit. So here goes nothing!

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10 Ways Having Kids is Like Writing a List About Things That Are Like Having Kids

10 Ways Having Kids is Like Writing a List About Things That Are Like Having Kids

I’ve been writing a lot of lists lately.

As a result, my friend at AskYourDadBlog – a far nicer, far more successful, far more irritating outfit – thought he’d be clever and insult my recent rash of list-making by suggesting a new one, called “10 Ways Having Kids is Like Writing a List About Things That Are Like Having Kids.”

Joke’s on him though, because I DID it. And it’s glorious. And it fills me with (more) self-loathing.

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Emotionally Unable

Emotionally Unable

Children are surprisingly intelligent and perceptive. Except when they’re not.

My son knows to lie to get what he wants, he knows how to push our buttons to piss us off, he knows how to work my iPhone and he knows I didn’t really steal his nose. I bet yours is the same way; kids are always smarter than you expect. And yet despite their mad skills, when it comes to emotional intelligence they are total morons.

Mine still can’t figure out when an emotional breakdown is warranted (never) and when one isn’t (when your banana breaks).

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Fanning the Flames?

Fanning the Flames?

Now that I have a car (stupid North Carolina), I find myself listening to the radio more than I have in years. Of course, the radio is terrible. So I throw on sports talk.

Which is also terrible, especially local sports radio. But the national shows, like ESPN’s morning shows and a few others, are tolerable. This morning, I heard Dan Patrick tell a story about how, one day during the 2004 playoffs, some of his son’s classmates – Yankees fans – pissed on the kid’s Red Sox hat.

Suddenly I’ve started questioning the way I’ve been indoctrinating my son into fandom.

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