I love my kids, I just hate parenting
On Thanksgiving weekend two years ago, my brother captured a video of my son pretending to talk on a cell phone.
It went a little viral – was even aired on “The Today Show” – and got this site its first real attention. Today I thought I’d repost the video – and its companion. Because my son is really good at pretending to talk on the phone and you deserve two versions of it on this long holiday weekend.
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!
I don’t think I became lazy until I was a teenager. My toddler, however, has mastered it at three.
It’s a very selective laziness. He’s off the wall with energy most of the time, i.e., when you’re trying to get through the security line at the airport and he decides he wants to pretend to be The Flash; but when it’s time for him to actually do something? He’s less active than most of the people who work security at the airport.
Of course, if I had someone willing to carry me around everywhere, I’m pretty sure I’d let my legs atrophy until they melted off, so who am I to talk?
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.
Read more about 10 Ways Having Kids is Like Writing a List About Things That Are Like Having Kids …
This morning I helped my son get dressed for school.
It involved choosing superhero underwear (Green Lantern), choosing a superhero shirt (Batman), putting on superhero socks (Spider-man) and tying on a superhero cape (an inexplicably sparkly and inexplicably yellow Batman cape, which he was unhappily forced to take off before leaving the house).
It won’t be long before Detective Munch doesn’t need my help getting dressed or tying his cape on, which would be a little sad, if helping him put his clothes on didn’t usually devolve into a wrestling match at the end of which I need help tying something on (i.e., 500 beers). But that day hasn’t come yet.
Thankfully, there are a few steps before we get there.