12 Jul

Dad and Buried Posted in Fear 15,217 comments

Children are Mirrors

Children are mirrors.

When I concentrate really hard, I do this thing with my face where my features get scrunched up all tight. My wife blames this expression for my increasing wrinkles and constantly attempts to stop me from doing it (despite the fact that I can still pass for 18!) I see her point, and I’d love to stop creating crow’s feet. But it’s impossible; it’s genetic.

I’ve seen my father make the same face, for the same reasons, and now I’m waiting to see it on Detective Munch’s chubby little visage. He already looks a lot like me, and it’s so gratifying to see him take on some of my characteristics that I’m okay with adding the wrinkle-maker to that collection.

Unfortunately, it has yet to happen. But I have seen him reflect back aspects of myself that are not quite as amusing.

Read more about Children are Mirrors …

04 Jul

Dad and Buried Posted in Future 1,051 comments

Be All That You Can Be (Except Any of the Following)

I’ve been writing a lot about the dreams my son may have as he grows up and the way life may dash them. But the fact is, despite how hard it is to become a rock star, or how unlikely it may be that he will be a professional athlete, if there’s one country in the world where such outlandish dreams are possible, it’s Canada.

But America ain’t bad either.

Freedom can be a dangerous thing. There are so many ways it can go wrong. In honor of Independence Day, I’ve put together a little list of things my son can be when he grows up, because of our freedom, but that I hope he doesn’t become.

30 Jun

Dad and Buried Posted in Future 23 comments

Sacrifice Try?

My son has recently become obsessed with playing baseball, waking up every morning and immediately demanding to take some cuts with his plastic bat (and Red Sox ball. REPRESENT!).

I think it’s great that he’s into the sport; it’s a hell of a lot safer than football and I’m glad he’s showing more interest in it than in something like soccer. But it’s gonna hurt when I crush his dreams. Or, more to the point, when his body does.

Sorry, kid. You don’t have the genes for sports.

Scared Tactics

When you’re a kid, you just don’t understand.

You’re just doing your thing, trying something new, exploring something new, eyes on the prize, when all of a sudden Daddy appears out of nowhere, grabs you, and starts yelling in your face.

You’re scared. But what your puny, inexperienced brain doesn’t realize is, that despite all appearances, Daddy is even more scared than you.

Without 2

You may have noticed that the blog has been a tad quiet of late, and that’s because the family has been doing a little traveling.

We drove up north. We drove because we wanted to stay flexible, schedule-wise, and because airlines inexplicably charge full-price once your kid turns two-years-old so he can have a seat. But I’d gladly let him sit on my lap for two hours. Deal with occasionally getting kicked, fatso next to me!

The driving made the travel longer, made the use of the computer impossible (hence reduced blog posts), and made me question why I didn’t put my son in a kennel because he’s the one child on earth who doesn’t sleep in the car and man does he get annoying!

But a funny thing happened near the end of the trip.

Dad and Buried

Tag: motherhood

Children are Mirrors

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Be All That You Can Be (Except Any of the Following)

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Sacrifice Try?

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Scared Tactics

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Without 2

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