Hard Knock Life

Hard Knock Life

The other day, during a particularly stressful endurance test at the dinner table, Mom and Buried chided me for getting so frustrated at Detective Munch’s eating (or lack thereof) habits. She told me that I needed to step back and realize that as hard as parenting can be, it’s pretty tough to be a three-year-old too.

My inadequacy as a father notwithstanding – although I would argue that no parent should be judged by their reaction to a toddler’s dinnertime hi-jinks – that’s some bullshit right there.

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The Worst Baby Names Ever!

The Worst Baby Names Ever!

There’s nothing parents enjoy more than judging other parents.

Don’t believe me? Go post a picture of your toddler in his car seat and see how long it takes for someone to question the way he’s strapped in.

Nobody knows better for your child than some other child’s mom or dad and nobody is quicker to let you know.

Especially when it comes to names.

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How To Avoid Buying Crap For Your Kids

How To Avoid Buying Crap For Your Kids

Lat night, I took my kid to see Marvel Universe LIVE!, an arena-based stunt show featuring what seemed to be every single major, minor and tertiary character from Marvel Comics history. Let’s just say it was a little overstuffed.

At least the second act was (there’s a twenty-minute intermission while they rework the sets), which was all I really saw. I spent almost the entire first act in line at the concession stand waiting for twenty dollars worth of hot dogs (i.e., 3 hot dogs). By the time I got back inside to the show, Loki had already made off with the cosmic cube (or something) and the bevy of costumed stuntmen were moving around and/or standing in place while pre-recorded dialogue was played over the loudspeakers.

(For some reason Spider-man was really into social media (read: annoying) and constantly said stuff like, “SELFIE!” and “I gotta tweet about this!”)

Needless to say my son loved it, and was desperate for a souvenir with which to mark the momentous occasion that he won’t give a shit about in less than two weeks.

Here’s how I avoided buying him one.

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Moms are Overrated

Moms are Overrated

For the third week this month, Mom and Buried is traveling and I’m on my own with my kid.

DON’T PANIC. We’re okay.

Sure, maybe the first time my wife went away I was all: what am I gonna do? But several weeks in and now I’m all: ain’t no thing but a chicken wing on a string. I’m a real-life dad, not a Seth Macfarlane character; I can handle it. Newsflash: it’s parenting, not the Thunderdome, and dads can do it just as well as moms.

I’d even venture to say we do it better.

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