Whining Enthusiast

Whining Enthusiast

I’ve written about my son’s whining before.

Of course I’ve written about it before. It’s such a large part of my day-to-day existence, the presence of the whine, the powerlessness to do anything about the whine, the desire to drink lots of wine because of the whine, that how could I not have written about it before?

But that was foolish. Because in the time since I wrote that post, things have taken a turn. And I’ve learned that whatever whining that I was, ahem, whining about back then was hardly whining at all.

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Zombie Post: The Mother of All Letters

Zombie Post: The Mother of All Letters

This Sunday is Mother’s Day. As if you didn’t already know. Last Mother’s Day, with my son in the midst of his terrible twos, I wrote a letter to my son in which I begged him to not be an asshole for a few hours. Little did I know that his terrible twos were nothingRead more about Zombie Post: The Mother of All Letters[…]

Review and Giveaway: Dino Construction Company

Review and Giveaway: Dino Construction Company

If you ask my toddler to list his favorite things on earth, after he says Mommy and Frozen and “cracker parties” and Grandma and probably mutters a few gibberish words and mentions his lovey and then cries and screams for a little while and then maybe says some foods like bacon and pizza, I’ll bet he’ll finally announce that it’s “trains!”

But then, if you ask for his favorite things besides trains, he’ll say “baseball!” And after that, after you’ve spent a few more fruitless minutes trying to get him to respond the way you want him to respond so your stupid intro to your stupid blog post will fall into place, you’ll give up and grab a beer. And that’s when he’ll go off and play with his trucks and pretend he’s a dinosaur because he loves those things too even if he refused to cooperate.

In fact, he might even go play with his trucks and pretend to be a dinosaur at the same time, because now he can, with the Dino Construction Company!

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Parental Advisories – Volume 9

Parental Advisories – Volume 9

Look. It’s not that I don’t want to give you people advice, it’s that you won’t allow me to. Even after my previous EIGHT installments of my parental advisories, in which I’ve dominated the field and proven my bona fides as someone who can write middling jokes while being kind of insulting and mostly side-stepping your very real domestic problems. I own the space!

You want in on this expertise? Then you’d better get to asking more questions!

Until then, I’ll service the meager few who’ve got the balls to admit – and/or are so drunk they actually think – that I’m a better parent than they are.

Like these brave souls below.

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