Even as a kid, I understood he got himself riled up and had a heart attack.

Same for the vacuum during the waterfall scene, he had an epileptic seizure. “Get the cord out of his mouth!”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEdZh8a4ZvE

“Worthless!!”

These unavoidable days suck. Faltering does not mean failing. Your kids are the age where if you fuck up, and feel bad about it, they can feel you. When they see old dad return, they’ll write it off. They might not even remember it come morning.

It has to be a frequent, recurring problem before they start to expect it or lose faith in the dad they already know.

Throw your hands up and make a face, today got the better of you. Tomorrow, it won’t.

This and blowing raspberries into his tummy are my/his favorite. I know the time for both is finite, so I am enjoying it as much as possible.

I applaud every garment manufacturer that sews a tiny same-colored loop near the neck of a shirt or near the waist of pants where the tag can be led through it with a piece of string that doesn’t pierce the fabric and can be effortlessly cut off.

Bonus points if it’s just a cotton thread holding a piece of cheap cardboard and no plastic is involved.

“Let me explain… No, there is too much to explain. Let me sum up…”

I guess if I had to pick one thing, I was always reminded or punished when I did something wrong but I was never reminded or congratulated when I did something right.

My method of teaching with my son is both correcting him in the moment and remembering to thank him and award him when he’s doing a good job, even if it’s something mundane.

The result so far has been people constantly telling me how well behaved and obedient he is for his age. So I must be on to something.

In a manner of speaking.

My son’s diapers have a bright yellow tab on the back to tape it closed. I can feel which side is which.

I still screw it up sometimes.

Yep, those are night terrors. Settle in, because they could continue for years.

My three-year-old still randomly bolts up and demands to: go outside, play with toys, use the toilet, etc. he will claim it is morning and that he should wake up. He starts putting his bed away even though it’s pitch black outside. All while screaming his lungs out.

He seems to be wide awake, but he isn’t. His brain is doing this to develop the pathways needed to create a sleep cycle. He responds to my presence too, just in a completely irrational way. Like I’m part of the dream. Then just as suddenly as he started, he stop fighting me and just sits there for a moment before falling over and going back to sleep.

They used to go on for up to an hour, now they will graciously stop after 15 minutes. It was pretty frightening at first, but now it’s just a matter of making sure he doesn’t destroy his room or hurt himself by flopping all over the place.

Me: “Wait, where is my one-year-old son?”

My one-year-old son: quietly eating an entire package of cherry tomatoes on the kitchen floor

I have exactly one item in my house that needs a coin cell battery. The device (an egg timer) is magnetized to the stove vent way beyond my boy’s reach and I keep the only spare battery inside the packaging until I need it.

My son isn’t the kind of kid that goes digging for stuff to put in his mouth. But if so, it would be impossible for him to open the carton and it would be very hard for him to put the whole thing in his mouth.

Kids or not, I hate coin batteries in general. Mostly because you can’t buy rechargeable versions. I have a collection of Eneloops, most of which are nearing their ninth birthday and still going strong. I would rather not buy disposable batteries of any kind.

You didn’t choose the kindy life, the kindy life chose you.

This, but unironically.

Also, I love this about kids. NEVER stop asking questions, little girl!

Me, every morning leading up to the day: “Remember, dad, you said we’re going to Fuddruckers on Sunday.”

Same people who bring kids to see Randy Feltface and are offended when he starts cursing like a sailor.

That’s actually legitimately scary.

As a child, I was suspicious of the Swanson Ice Cream trucks that randomly appeared in my neighborhood.

That’s actually really cute.

“Move this couch, please.” “Sure thing, mom.”

“Open these olives, please.” “Of course, sweety.”

I just know I’m going to be minding my own business and my to-be teenaged son will suddenly ask me what a VCR is.

POV: You’re Homer Simpson.

I used to work retail with someone who would regularly help parents that brought their baby into the store. Every time the baby would shout gibberish while he was having a conversation with the parents, he would immediately stop what he was doing, look right at the baby, and say matter-of-factually, “I completely agree.”

Anything that makes a baby’s brain go “wait, what is happening?” Will make them (momentarily) stop crying.

My son makes eye contact with me, smiles, touches his diaper, and says “Ota!” (His word for ‘Uh oh!’)