I love my kids, I just hate parenting
The other day, after Mom and Buried mentioned something about Father’s Day to Detective Munch, he responded by complaining about the fact that there isn’t a “kid’s day.”
Have you stopped laughing?
A child asking why there isn’t a kids’ day is like a white dude chanting “ALL LIVES MATTER” or a Meninist existing.
EVERY DAY IS KID’S DAY, JUNIOR.
Before we have kids, we often make a lot of hyperbolic statements about the things we can’t live without. Things like bacon and beer, as well as certain albums and books and movies.
Then you have kids, and those kids immediately skyrocket to the top of the list. Some of the other items on the list are displaced, having instantly become frivolous, but some of them remain, and even grow in importance.
Like coffee!
For the past week or so, ever since the baseball incident, Detective Munch has been at the top of his game.
He’s been on his best behavior, in a good mood, helpful with The Hammer, cooperative with us. There’s been nary a fit or whine-fest, and we only almost missed the school bus once. It’s kind of scary. He’s been so good it’s almost like our parenting is paying off!
This is when I need to remind myself not to get cocky, kid. Stay woke!
Father’s Day is next weekend, apparently.
That’s right, I don’t pay much attention to the date, because I don’t care too much about Father’s Day! Don’t get me wrong, Mom and Buried is an amazing gift-giver, so it’s always exciting to see what she comes up with, but I’d trade every gift she’s ever given me for never having to get her anything because my gift-giving abilities pale in comparison to hers and the stress is KILLING ME.
It doesn’t have to kill you, though, because I’m going to help! This year, I have some gift ideas for the dad in your life, with the First Annual Dad and Buried Father’s Day Gift Guide!
When I get home from work, I’m pretty spent.
My days are usually filled with meetings and deadlines and fire drills and brainstorming and phone calls — capped off by a long commute on a crowded subway. So, by the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is something mentally taxing. I want a drink, a seat and some television.
But, alas, I have kids, so before I get to do those things, I have to deal with the fruit of my loins first. And that means common core.