How To Avoid Buying Crap For Your Kids

How To Avoid Buying Crap For Your Kids

Lat night, I took my kid to see Marvel Universe LIVE!, an arena-based stunt show featuring what seemed to be every single major, minor and tertiary character from Marvel Comics history. Let’s just say it was a little overstuffed.

At least the second act was (there’s a twenty-minute intermission while they rework the sets), which was all I really saw. I spent almost the entire first act in line at the concession stand waiting for twenty dollars worth of hot dogs (i.e., 3 hot dogs). By the time I got back inside to the show, Loki had already made off with the cosmic cube (or something) and the bevy of costumed stuntmen were moving around and/or standing in place while pre-recorded dialogue was played over the loudspeakers.

(For some reason Spider-man was really into social media (read: annoying) and constantly said stuff like, “SELFIE!” and “I gotta tweet about this!”)

Needless to say my son loved it, and was desperate for a souvenir with which to mark the momentous occasion that he won’t give a shit about in less than two weeks.

Here’s how I avoided buying him one.

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[E-card] Common Ground

[E-card] Common Ground

Today Ask Your Dad Blog, Tomorrow the World!

Today Ask Your Dad Blog, Tomorrow the World!

Last week I posted a quick little update about the passing of my son’s afternoon nap on Facebook. Upon reading it, my archenemy at Ask Your Dad Blog, John Kinnear, told me he wished he had written it and proceeded to beg me to tell everyone he had. When I refused, he requested that IRead more about Today Ask Your Dad Blog, Tomorrow the World![…]

Label War

Label War

For reasons that make little sense to my readers, my wife, or even myself, I often refer to my son as Detective Munch. But that’s almost exclusively online; I never call him that to his face.

No, to his face I call him all manner of things, some of which rhyme with his actual name (there aren’t a lot of options; his actual name is Pantry), some of which rhyme with grass-pole, and most of which are just nonsense words because I’m more of a child than he is.

Aside from causing some identity-confusion that could come back to haunt us both and the occasional scolding from Mom and Buried, the nonsense nicknames I give my son are harmless. They’re just a way for me to be affectionate with him when I can’t remember his real name and don’t want him to know I’ve forgotten.

But since I don’t use his real name online, I’m starting to run out of ways to refer to him, especially as he gets older.

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What Parents Eat

What Parents Eat

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