I love my kids, I just hate parenting
Hey kiddo,
You may remember I wrote a similar letter on Mother’s Day, in which I begged you to behave so that your mom could relax and enjoy her special Sunday.
This letter is a little different. For one thing, this letter is about me, not about Mommy, so I can speak a bit more freely. For another, until football starts, Sundays are pretty much meaningless to me. Even this coming one.
I don’t think toddlers and dogs are the same thing (except when they kind of are). No one could possibly think that.
For one thing, dogs have fur. For another, dogs can be trained. They’ll actually listen to commands. You can use a leash without getting strange looks and, as mentioned above, your wife can even carry certain kinds of dogs in her purse. You can’t do that with toddlers. But sometimes I wish you could.
Taking toddlers places is stressful AF!
Oh happy day!
My son performed his first successful poop in the potty this morning, and I wanted to share the proud moment with all of my blog readers.
It’s only right that you should experience this along with me, and share in my triumph.
Thanks for making the image on the next page possible!
I don’t consider myself the superstitious type. I occasionally knock some wood and usually try to say “rabbit rabbit” at the start of every month, but that’s about it.
Of course, that was before I became a dad.
These days I might as well be Shirley Maclaine for all the bullshit I find myself believing. There’s just NO WAY a filthy anarchist monkey like Curious George gets invited to that many parties, but I just keep playing along.
My son likes to play this game called “Give Mommy and Daddy a heart attack!”
The rules are simple: he goes about his normal, everyday business, and Mom and Buried and I freak out at every stupid and dangerous thing he does that nearly gets him killed. Toddlers are fearless, to a fault.
Obviously, it’s not quite as fun for us.