We’ve moved! Mostly.
Right now, we are in limbo at my parents in CT while I commute to Manhattan during the week and hunt for a Brooklyn apartment on the weekend. (Yup, from BK to NC and back again.) It’s stressful and exhausting and it generally sucks, for everyone except my son. He gets to spend all day with Grandma, gorging on juice boxes and cracker parties and chocolate chip cookies. He’s like a pig in shit. But he’s wiping my parents out.
To offer them a reprieve, sometimes Detective Munch comes down to NYC too. And if you thought apartment hunting in NYC was hard, try doing it with a 3yo by your side.
A few weeks back, after abandoning potty training due to the onset of trauma, Mom and Buried and I took a quick run to Target.
While there, we decided to buy some off-brand diapers to get us through the next few weeks, enough time for Detective Munch to emerge from his PTSD (Potty Traumatic Stress Disorder) and get back on the potty train.
The cheapo diapers turned out to not be the best idea, as they were cheapo for a reason: they leaked worse than Julian Assange.
Which got me thinking. Maybe I shouldn’t shortchange my son.
As I discussed last week, Christmas is a double-edged sword.
The kid got way too many toys for Christmas and he had way too many toys already. But it’s not always the quantity of toys that is the problem. It’s the quality. Some toys are educational, some are musical, some are harmless and some are the devil.
Every kid has received a gift that immediately becomes the bane of their parents’ existence, for a variety of potential reasons. After a morning spent nursing a headache one of those gifts had given me, I reached out online and asked other parents what one gift they wished their child had never received, and why.
Here were the top three responses, plus one slightly more universal item: