"Lego" of Gender Stereotypes

Lego, I've loved you for as long as I can remember.

From the days of creating simplistic towers and faux weapons with your larger blocks, to graduating to the smaller blocks and building intricate spaceships and cityscapes, you gave me endless amounts of entertainment and creative development as a child. You taught me spatial relations. You taught me the basics of physics. You helped me learn to stretch the creative portion of my brain to realize that with a set of basic blocks, the potential end results were limitless. I even posted about my excitement when it was announced that Legoland would be coming to town.

But I have to admit..you've disappointed me recently. When the news broke that you decided to create a specific line of Legos for girls, I was baffled. Since when did Lego need to have gender-specific subsets? Why, all of a sudden, did a perfectly gender-neutral and universal toy need to be made into something that segregated and dissected its products into 'boy Legos' and 'girl Legos'?

No. Just no.

I don't get it. Sure, you pin it on 'research'. You say that girls 'play differently'. But did you ever think that girls 'play differently' because companies like you try to pigeonhole them into a specific way of playing?

You refer to your own product as 'masculine'. I suggest you come over and tell my 2-year-old daughter that she's playing wrong, because she absolutely loves her set of Legos. It's nothing fancy. It's the same tub I played with when I was a kid, in fact.

Sure, you've created playsets for movies like Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. You have sets with rocketships and astronauts. Newsflash: girls can like those things too.

Girls don't need a Lego house with a pink roof where they can pretend to be Susie Homemaker. They don't need a playset where they pretend to be a pop singer diva. Will some of them want this stuff? Sure. But what girls don't need is you telling them 'Hey, THESE Legos are for you! Ignore all of those others!' And from what I can tell via screenshots, your new 'Legos for girls' take away the one aspect of your toy that made it special: BUILDING. My daughter loves to build things with her Legos. She doesn't need a miniskirted figurine to prance around with, and she certainly doesn't need you telling her that's how she should be using your products.

I won't be buying any of your Legos for Girls products. As far as I'm concerned, my daughter will continue playing with my old Lego sets until they get lost or destroyed in a fire. She doesn't need you telling her how to play or what it means to 'play like a girl'. Instead, I'll let her use Legos like they should always be intended: an open-ended tool for her to create whatever her heart desires without instruction.

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A MINE Sweeping Realization

Though my daughter is now officially in her 'Terrible Twos' phase, she naturally got a head start on this period of stubbornness and started her 'No' phase months ago. But now that I've become numb to the consistent toddler hard-headedness, a new behavioral development has entered the fray: The 'Mine' phase.

While the sheer thought of this phase may strike fear into the hearts of some parents, I've spent most of the time scratching my head out of confusion. Because here's the thing: my daughter is weird. And most of the objects she's been claiming as 'hers' are really absurd or just don't make any sense.

Nail clippers. Diced carrots. A bucket lid. A washcloth.

It just hasn't added up. I might have been worried up to this point if she was stealing items from people and claiming them as hers or trying to do it with things like expensive electronics or priceless antique heirlooms (as if I own any of those anyway). So what's the story then? Why the random objects? Why the sudden insistence on claiming items of no value as hers? Then it came to me this morning.

My toddler is a hoarder.

It all makes sense now, really. How she can sit in her own poop and not seem to mind. How she dumps all of her toys all over the living room and takes no issue with just walking all over and through the mess. How, if it were up to her, she'd bring every cat, dog and woodland creature into our home and let it live there indefinitely. I've watched TV. I've seen the reality shows. I know these symptoms, and I know my daughter is starting the path to becoming a grade-A, certified pack rat.

For the love of God, tell me this won't be my daughter in 40 years.

Parents, stop for a moment and take off your rose-colored glasses. Listen for a moment. Does your toddler claim strange objects as his or her own? Look at their room. Should there be FEMA trailers parked next to their changing table? Maybe you are raising a junior hoarder yourself and just don't recognize the signs. Don't live in denial.

So the next time I hear her proclaim "Mine!" for a random, unnecessary object, only one question will come to mind..

Do I start the intervention now or wait until I've pitched a new toddler hoarding concept to A&E?

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Controlling the Sailor

I have a terrible mouth. Really. Ever since I discovered cursing, my language has gotten progressively worse, and in college it was safe to say that I could rarely form a sentence without an expletive thrown in. To say I cursed like a sailor seems like a bit of an understatement.

Of course, the birth of my daughter caused me to make an immediate change in my choice of words. The majority of the time, you might hear me using such dangerous phrases as 'Geeze Louise', 'Son of a bee sting' or 'Mother of pearl'. Every time I feel myself getting worked up and on the verge of spouting out some atrocious set of words, I feel those little, blue innocent eyes looking up at me waiting to hear what I'm about to say. And given the fact that at her age, she's essentially a parrot, I've developed an amazing amount of self-control and ability to censor myself.

But, sometimes I slip. And on rare occasion, I've slipped big time. One such occasion occurred just the other day, when I was participating in my most common curse-inducing activity..

DRIVING.

I have no patience on the road. Zero. Zilch. I am that person that you see on your morning commute that is hitting the steering wheel and screaming like they just escaped from the sanitarium. 'Road rage' often seems like too innocent of a phrase to describe the furies I can get into when people are driving like morons.

I think this guy forgot to put a few fingers down.

Despite this fact, I've done a really good job of keeping my temper in check when I have Ava in the car. But recently, I was driving along like any other evening, when some mental giant cut me off and slammed on his brakes. I narrowly avoided bashing into his car, and all I could think was 'If my daughter gets hurt right now, I will go to jail for murdering this person on the side of the road'. After normal traffic resumed, and I had pulled myself together, I realized that I had definitely cursed during this situation, but honestly didn't remember exactly what I had said. Until a little voice emerged from the backseat that clued me in..

"Fah…keeng…id…uht."

Oh. Oh dear God. As Ralphie from A Christmas Story would say, I dropped the queen mother of all dirty words, and Ava played it right back for me as a reminder of how terrible of a person I am.

With my jaw now hitting the gas pedal and my heart rate skyrocketing, I panicked to figure out how to address this with her. The only thing I could think of was to say "No no, we don't say that, that's bad!" Of course, she's staring at my blankly, and I can hear the tiny voice in her head saying, "Wwell then why did you say it, idiot?" And why wouldn't she stare at me blankly? She's 2, she doesn't know what a 'bad' word is, she's still wrapping her head around what a WORD even is.

I essentially realized that there was nothing I could do at the moment, other than hope that she didn't repeat it again, and use the scenario as a reminder to be constantly aware of what's coming out of my mouth. Fortunately, she didn't say it again, though I was on pins and needles for the entire drive, hoping that this phrase wouldn't suddenly become a staple of her toddler lexicon. I was just imagining her wandering around saying "Elmo? Mickey? Chicken? Fucking idiot?"

I felt like a terrible parent. A terrible person, really. But as the night went on, my guilt subsided as I realized that I'm obviously not the first person to curse in front of their child, even the first person to drop the good old F-Bomb. Ava isn't going to grow up to be some maladjusted ne'er-do-well simply because I had a spell of road rage.

I know the cursing sailor in me will never completely die, but the key is learning to control when he makes his presence known.

What about you, parents? Have you had a moment where your inner sailor came back to haunt you?

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Living Single

Though I wish this post's title was an homage to Khadijah, Synclaire, Max and Kyle (thumbs up if you caught that joke), it is unfortunately a reference to a major life change that has occurred for me in the past week. I am now divorced and 'living single'. The following is a few random thoughts and observations on divorce and my life going forward as a single father. It may not be completely coherent and fluid, but let's face it, neither is my brain right now so it's fairly representative of how I feel.

Divorce is a strange, convoluted process. Fortunately, ours was very easy compared to how it could have been and can be for some couples. And of course, I say that with the precursor that divorce is never easy for anybody. Because although the decision was a mutual and cordial one for me and my ex, divorce is a stressful, draining and emotional process no matter how quickly or efficiently you are able to get it done.

All of that being said, I feel incredibly fortunate that my ex and I are remaining friends and I know we will do an incredible job of co-parenting. She's a great mother and I'd like to think that I'm a great father. And even in separate households, I have complete faith that the two of us will work together and do everything in our power to create a wonderful life for our daughter.

I think one of the odd things about divorce is trying to share the news with other people. Let's face it, divorce is a major life event. But, it's not treated like other major life events. Engagements, weddings and child births are all approached with mass announcements. Proactive e-mails, phone calls, letters, etc. are made to spread the big news to everyone far and wide. Heck, even when someone passes away, friends and family will get together to celebrate the life of the person that has left. But divorce is treated as such a taboo and 'hush hush' subject, that it's difficult knowing just how to let people know. You feel like people should be aware. But how do you casually bring that up? Honestly, nobody knows how to react. And though some may not come right out and say it, you can always tell when someone puts on their judging eyes after they hear the news.

The divorce makes me feel like a wobbly drunk. One moment I feel like I'm taking one step forward, the next I feel like I'm taking two steps back. My attitude and mind is in a constant tip-toeing state of flux, where I'm optimistic at the prospect of doing what's right, but disappointed that I feel like I've moved my life in reverse.

I'm a worrier by nature. It's rare for a day to go by where my head isn't filled with anxiety about something, whether it's related to money, work, etc. Well, naturally my new role as a divorced single dad has added a whole new set of worries to my life.

I worry that I'll miss out. We're getting to a point where there's going to be a lot of major events in my daughter's life. Before, working full-time, my time with my daughter was limited already. And now, even with joint custody, it's going to be limited even more. I am so frightened at the idea of not being there for significant events in her life. For example, last night she used the 'big girl potty' for the first time. To non-parents, this might seem insignificant or something strange to be excited about. But really, it was disheartening that I couldn't be there for something that is a parental milestone and something worth being proud of. While I loved the news and getting the phone call about it, I couldn't help but feel bummed that I wasn't there. What else will I miss out on? What else will be reduced to just a celebratory phone call?

I worry that I'll be replaced. I know, it might seem like a silly thing to say. But I can't help it. I know that I will always be my daughter's daddy. But I also know that inevitably, my ex will find another man to share her life with, and in the end, part of her life is our daughter. As a new guy begins to spend time and hang out with Ava, I am scared shitless (pardon my French) that a day will come where she wants to hang out with him more than me. Again, it may be a completely baseless and absurd fear to have, but it's just something that's there in my mind.

I worry that I'll be undateable. Let's face it, "26-year-old divorced father" isn't exactly a hot commodity title on paper. I'm at the age where everyone is getting engaged, married or having a baby (trust me, Facebook confirms this fact every day). Of all the women that are still single, I doubt there are many examining the fish left in the sea and going for the one that has a fry (this is the word for a baby fish, apparently..thanks Google). Maybe this is my own self-created delusion, but I feel like divorced parents are looked at as tarnished and well, how do I put this..women can be really picky. Note that I said CAN BE, and that not ALL of you are *ducks flying tomatoes*! But seriously, as confident as I am in what I have to offer somebody in the future, I can't help but feel like I'm walking around with a scarlet letter 'D' emblazoned on my chest.

I worry I just won't be the same. I know that's a vague, generic statement. But right now, I just feel drained in every sense of the word. Emotionally, mentally, some days even physically, I just don't feel like I'm 100% 'me'. I know it will be a process. I know, that like every rough turn in life, there's recovery time needed to get back on the steady, straightened path. I don't want to be pessimistic. I don't want to assume that I'll have no luck in love in the future. I don't want to think that my relationship with my daughter will be scarred. I'm haunted by 'What ifs' and 'mights', but I need to get rid of those mental demons and give myself some clarity as I move forward. Because in the end, that's what I have to remind myself. I AM moving forward. The steps might seem shaky, and sometimes I'll scoot back slightly to keep myself balanced, but the forward progress is there.

I can't live my life worried about being negatively judged on the labels of "divorced" or "single dad". Because ultimately, it's just me. And I'll be the best me I can be, regardless of arbitrary titles.

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Parents Are Weird

Last night at a friend's house, her roommate showed me a project she had been working on; painting a plaster cast that her friend had molded around her pregnant belly. This was certainly not the first time I had seen or heard of a pregnant woman making a cast of her stomach, but it got me to thinking. Because the fact is..it's kind of strange. In fact, there are a lot of bizarre things that people start doing once they become parents that to the outside world, probably seem a little freakish.

Now, before I get into my examples, I should note that I mean no offense to any of you parents who partake in these activities (except maybe number 4). In fact, I'm guilty of at least one and who knows what I might fall victim to in the future. But the fact is, as a parent you have to laugh at yourself a bit and realize that having children kind of turns us into lunatics.

Saving hair and teeth

I put this one first because it's probably the most common and the one I'll probably catch the most heat for. Saving 'baby's first lock' and 'baby's first tooth' as keepsakes seems to be a pretty widely accepted practice. But can we stop for a second and look at this for what it is? YOU ARE SAVING A HUMAN BEING'S HAIR AND TEETH. When a loved one passes away, do we snip off their bangs and pull out a tooth to preserve their memory? No, because that would be super creepy. Just because the person is alive doesn't eliminate that creepy factor, it only lessens it slightly. When somebody asks about your child, do you think they want to be greeted with a Ziploc bag containing hair follicles and a molar? No. Show them a damn picture already and leave it at that.

Matching outfit family portraits

I just want to thank all the families that insist on wearing matching clothes in their annual family photos. I mean, without the matching outfits, I might have just thought it was a picture of some random strangers who happened to congregate for a smiling photo in a grassy field. But dammit, those slim fit khakis and untucked white linen shirts let everybody know 'Hey, we're a FAMILY. We get along so well with each other that we coordinated these matching outfits and LOVE it!' Don't worry though, we'll ignore Junior scowling in the corner and the fact that you wear different outfits the other 364 days and 22 hours of the year. Just remember, at some point you will run out of colors to wear, and I don't think matching plaid will make for a very aesthetically pleasing portrait.

Do you REALLY want to model your family portraits after the Partridges?

Stick figure window decals

First of all, if you have a family of more than 4 kids, don't even think about ordering one of these. Nobody wants to sit there and stare at your small army of line people at a stoplight, and your 12 passenger Ford Econoline van gives us a pretty good indication that you have procreated way too many times. But even for the rest of you, I have to ask: Why? Why do you find it necessary to inform the driver behind you of your family lineup? Especially when you include NAMES on the decal too. Do you think that, if we happen to end up at the same destination, I'm going to come up and greet you? "Hey Bill, I just wanted to say I really appreciated how quick you were on the gas at those red lights. And I sure hope Kelsey stayed entertained with that Little Mermaid DVD in the back!" Trust me, with our without a decal, we can tell you have kids. Between your erratic driving as you try to discipline them and their faces pressed up against the window harassing other drivers, nobody is questioning the fact that you have some very lovely little tikes riding along.

Pageants

Now this one..this goes beyond weird parental behavior and really reaches the depths of creepy and gross. Are there normal, respectful pageant parents out there that have their child's best interest at heart? Maybe, but if so, I've never seen or heard about them. Quite frankly, I don't see what part of painting up your young daughter and dressing her like she's working a corner translates to healthy, beneficial behavior. Your child is a human, not your little doll that you can take advantage of and live vicariously through. If you want to treat something like a soulless creature that you can prance around for competition purposes, go buy a cat and enter the Cat Fanciers Association National Show. Just please quit trying to force your daughters to act 15 years older than their age and teaching them that being the prettiest is how you 'win' in life. Simply put, pageant parents should be flogged with curling irons and thrown into a giant vat of boiling eyebrow wax.

Leashes

Okay, so admittedly, I was a leash kid. Temporarily, anyway. I was very high energy, and after a few shopping trips where I disappeared inside the circular racks at JC Penney, she resorted to trying a leash. It didn't last long. As the story goes, one day while I was out with her, being trotted along on my leash, I had apparently decided I was fed up and wouldn't put up with it anymore. While I don't remember this, my mom claims I stopped in my tracks, turned and grabbed the leash, and gave it a solid yank accompanied by an echoing, bloodcurdling scream. Needless to say, the leash was not brought back out again. I understand that leashes (or 'safety harnesses', which I believe is the PC term) aren't inherently cruel, everyone has to admit that it's just strange to see a small child strapped up like an untrained Yorki-Poo. If you HAVE to use a leash, then by all means do it. But for the love of Whoever-You-Believe-In, exhaust all other options first. I'm convinced that my adult fears of seatbelts and suspenders are directly correlated to the incidents of being harnessed as a child.

Expensive devices for young kids

The other day, I saw someone tweet that their 5 and 3 year olds were playing with 'their' iPods. Wait, what? A 3 year old has his or her own iPod? First of all, money issues aside, what kind of music library does a 3 year old have that requires multiple gigabytes of space? Are you telling me that The Wiggles discography isn't something that could be chopped down and put onto a CD or 2? And besides that, aren't you just flushing money down the toilet by giving an expensive electronic device to a 3 year old? If you think that's a good investment of your money, I've got a bridge in Brooklyn that is a hot buy right now. Quite frankly, it seems like the 'acceptable' age for buying kids iPods, smartphones, etc. is becoming younger and younger. By giving a 3 year old an iPod, aren't you just setting them up to constantly expect electronics that are more expensive and more lavish as they get older? An iPad isn't a normal wish list item for a 5th birthday party. Kids aren't even going to learn to tie their shoes anymore because, hey, why bother going outside when I can sit inside and get hypnotized by an LCD screen?

I bet she's listening to Waka Flocka Flame.

Bronzed baby shoes

I don't know how common this is anymore, but it's still bizarre. You don't bronze their first poop in the toilet, so why bronze a pair of shoes? Here's an idea: instead of creating an expensive paperweight that, in 20 years, you'll recycle for 12 cents, donate your kids old shoes to someone who really needs them. As great as awkward, metallic mementos are, being able to help someone else's child take their first steps comfortably could be a million times more meaningful.

Pictures. Pictures. And more. Freaking. Pictures.

Right off the bat, I'll admit, I'm guilty of this one. But parents, we need to band together and have a self-intervention to convince ourselves to put the camera down sometimes. And on the same note, to resist the constant urges to upload every single picture to Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, etc. Yes, our kids are adorable and special and the best things on the planet. To us, anyway. But every meal, nose picking, nap, or new outfit doesn't necessarily need to be photographed. In reality, these moments might be more memorable and special if we step away from the lens and get involved rather than try to get the 'perfect' shot for our Facebook walls. And seriously, lay off the impromptu, uninvited gallery shows for co-workers, friends, etc. Keep in mind this is coming from a parent. I HAVE a kid, and still don't really care that much about seeing 500 pictures of someone else's kid. Sometimes I wish I could carry an air horn around to blast at people who do this, especially when a 10 minute story accompanies each photo.

Do I sound like a curmudgeony old man with this list? Yeah, probably. Hey, Andy Rooney's going to need a replacement, right? But like I said above, if you are guilty of any of these, don't get offended; just laugh. Except for the pageant stuff. Then throw yourself into an active volcano.

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The Defiant Toddler Drinking Game

My daughter has officially begun her "No" phase, and has started things off in full force. Every question asked of her is promptly countered with a defiant "No!" But rather than spout out a long-winded post about my experiences with terrifying phase that every parent has to deal with, I instead decided to create a method of dealing with the issue. Parents, please see The Defiant Toddler Drinking Game below. Enjoy, and remember to parent in moderation!

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Creating a Generation of Wussies

Over the weekend, while at the park with my daughter, I came to a disturbing revelation. Now, normally when I'm with her on the playground, I'm pretty focused on her as she tears around the equipment with reckless abandon. But on this day, a brief conversation between siblings sparked my interest. A young girl, let's say 9 or 10, had climbed up one of the pieces of playground equipment and was perched sitting on top of it. Now keep in mind, that was what this specific piece of equipment was intended for; it had ladder-style bars and a flattened area on top for sitting. The girl shouted down to her brother, who I'd guess was 6 or 7, and summoned him to come up to the top with her. His response? "No, that's too dangerous!"

Wait, what? Did I hear that right? I had to do a double, if not triple take. This is a 1st or 2nd grade boy labeling a pretty harmless activity as TOO DANGEROUS? I had to stop and process this information. First of all, there's no way this is his own logic speaking. We've all been 6 before; 'too dangerous' is not a concept that we recognize. And that being said, there's no way he heard it from his friends. So there's only one answer..this kid was coming to this conclusion based on information he received from an adult, probably a parent or teacher. Mind-blowing. After witnessing this, and thinking about some other things I had read and heard about recently, I came to one conclusion:

Adults, we are creating a generation of wussies.

Sorry to be so blunt about it, but it's true. Now it should be said right out of the gate that I'm not some hardass, gruff father. Not by any means. I'm very much a sensitive person and consider myself relatively progressive when it comes to parenting. But let's face it, the facts are there to support my claim. A recent New York Times article titled 'Can a Playground Be Too Safe?' explored the fact that by trying to over-protect our children, we are actually stifling their development. To borrow the article's quote from Ellen Sandseter, a professor of psychology at Queen Maud University in Norway: "Children need to encounter risks and overcome fears on the playground." A study that Sandester put together with a fellow psychologist proposes that shorter, less risky playground equipment is having negative effects on our children's emotional and mental health. “Paradoxically, we posit that our fear of children being harmed by mostly harmless injuries may result in more fearful children and increased levels of psychopathology," Sandester said.

So, if that conclusion can be drawn from assessing the playground equipment alone, what's to be said about the seemingly sharp increase in parental overprotectiveness? Because let's face it; kids these days are coddled. And the problem only seems to be getting worse. We're in the age of Dateline NBC, lawsuits and protests, where parents are under a constant delusional impression that nothing bad should or will ever happen to their child. We might as well just pop our kids into bubbles right out of the womb so they never get their poor bodies nicked, bruised or hurt. We've seen dodgeball and other competitive games and sports removed from PE classes and recesses around the country because parents say they cause emotional and psychological damage to kids. Interesting. You know what else competitive games and sports can do for kids? Teach them teamwork. Teach them problem solving. Develop their social skills. And of course, stay in shape, which is another severe problem with this generation of children that deserves a blog post all its own.

But parents don't think about that. Instead, if Little Johnny comes home and is upset because he got hit with the dodgeball at school or couldn't keep up in tag, they think he's being victimized and pull out their list of attorneys. No more is it teach, teach, teach. Instead it's sue, sue, sue. Complain, complain, complain. Bitch, piss and moan because my child wasn't handled with soft kid gloves and treated like a super special, unique, one-of-a-kind snowflake that shouldn't be subjected to activities that kids have been doing for decades and turned out JUST FINE.

"Okay Billy, NOW you can walk to the mailbox!"

Here's a little piece of mind for all you neurotic parents out there. I was a chubby kid in grade school. I was never the greatest athlete. But every week, I participated in PE. Every recess, I played kickball or basketball even though I was picked towards the end. I played recklessly on the playground, I rode my bike fast, I ate non-organic foods and here I am years later a well-adjusted, normal human being. I'm not emotionally scarred. I don't have mental health issues stemming from getting pelted with a rubber ball or being picked last for scooter basketball. If you really think that withdrawing your kid from competitive or 'potentially risky' activities will better him or her for life, you are dead wrong. You are the one doing the damage. Overprotective parents are slowly but surely creating a generation of anti-social, developmentally deprived kids who are more likely to be overweight and will probably have anxiety issues because they've been restricted from potentially dangerous situations for their entire childhood.

And here's a message to all you kids, though the ones I'm trying to reach won't read this because their lunatic parents would never let them. That piece of equipment on the playground that someone tells you is 'too dangerous'? It wouldn't be there if it wasn't meant to be played on. Go ahead, climb to the top. And if you fall and get a bruise? Then you've learned something. Life is all about falling, learning from your mistakes, and brushing yourself off as you go forward. And life is also all about competing. The word 'compete' doesn't have to be a bad word, as much as you'll hear some adults make it out to be one. Competition doesn't end in PE class in elementary school. You'll be competing academically and professionally for the rest of your life. Those sports and games, believe it or not, can teach you a few things about how to succeed in life in a respectable way. Plus, they'll help you make friends and keep you from being a future contestant on the Biggest Loser. Get in there and play.

Do I want my daughter to be safe? Yes, of course. Do I WANT to see her get hurt? Of course not. And do I always want her to be happy and feel emotionally sound? Absolutely. But never will I place her into some type of absurd theoretical bubble and prevent her from having important experiences as a child that will help her develop properly. Accidents happen. But with every accident, there's a lesson to be had, and that's the point that some of you parents out there are missing. Quit creating a generation of wussies.

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The Battle of Price Chopper

It was Saturday, August 20th of the 2011th year. The day would go down in infamy as hosting the most intense battle to date between two rivals that will forever butt heads: Independent Toddler and Disciplinary Dad.

The Battle of Price Chopper came to fruition out of seemingly inconsequential circumstances. Disciplinary Dad had escorted Independent Toddler to make a mandatory, standard expedition to the store to purchase rations. Allies at the time of arrival, Disciplinary Dad was ignorant to the fact that Independent Toddler would soon turn on him and make the Battle of Price Chopper a living hell he would never forget.

The first skirmish occurred in the neutral territory of the produce section. The seemingly bright and airy region soon turned gloomy and menacing when Disciplinary Dad refused Independent Toddler her right to carry the 3 pound bag of bananas while in the shopping cart. The decision was predicated on previous encounters where innocent fruit had been sacrificed at the hands of Independent Toddler.

Seeing this as a spit in the face in the wake of their alliance, Independent Toddler showed no hesitation in firing away with a counter attack. A shrieking battle cry followed by rapid fire tears rendered Disciplinary Dad confused and without a plan of action. Quick on his feet, Dad offered a truce of a single banana for Toddler to hold. The offer was accepted and temporarily calmed the storm, but trouble was brewing again on the horizon.

Tired of being restricted to her shopping cart seat and seat belt, the beans and canned tomatoes aisle found Independent Toddler ready to break free from her fabric straps of capitalist oppression. Working quickly to catch Disciplinary Dad off his guard, Independent Toddler let out her signature battle cry and took a sweeping blow at a can of dark red kidney beans in an attempt to shed first culinary blood on the sacred Price Chopper grounds.

Fortunately, through his years of intensive training, Dad saw the can strike in his periphery, and used his cat-like reflexes to make a lunging grab, rescuing the can from what was sure to be an early demise. With narrowed eyes and a stern voice, Disciplinary Dad warned Toddler that such an attack would not be tolerated again and that consequences would be felt.  However, Disciplinary Dad's attempts to assert dominance were soon overcome by fear as he saw an emerging lower lip and watery eyes.

Independent Toddler's shopping cart battle skills were renowned throughout the land.

Wanting to duck for cover but knowing he must face this challenge head on, Disciplinary Dad scooped up Independent Toddler as the tears of battle rained down from her face. Cries for "Mama" echoed through the cavernous shop as Dad did everything in his power to diffuse the situation. Knowing certain weaknesses of the Toddler side, he lowered her to the ground and asked her to help push the cart. Met with a grin, a wave of relief swept over Dad as the trek to reach the frozen foods continued.

A successful march through the dairy section had Dad feeling cautiously optimistic. But he knew that the biggest challenge of this battle still lay ahead. He had the unfortunate task of moving Toddler back to her original position and applying her restraints while he paid for the rations that had been collected. This exact scenario had led to numerous ambush attacks in the past, so Dad kept his head on a swivel and knew that he may encounter the worst.

And encounter the worst he did. All seemed well and good as he approached the belt and loaded his materials. The friendly alliance with Toddler seemed to be returned to it's normal state, and no indications of aggression or tension were present.

But little did Dad know that Toddler was just a small trigger away from the most devastating blow in the history of Price Chopper and Dad alike. Upon seeing Dad's car keys being passed to the checkout clerk for discount redemption, Toddler immediately felt spited and saw her alliance crumble before her very eyes. Those keys were HERS. By allowing a third, unknown party to access those keys was an unconscionable act and had to be dealt with severely. Dad would pay.

All fell silent as a Toddler war scream rattled the windows. An OK! Magazine was grabbed and went flying across the tile. Outstretched arms reached for the object of controversy as "KEEEEEEEEYS!" was repeatedly screeched towards the cashier. Eyes wide with fear, the employee tried to pass the keys to Dad, but fumbled in her fright. Dad lunged to snatch the keys off the belt and handed them to Toddler in hopes of calming her as she sobbed in despair. It worked temporarily, but Dads minutes were numbered. He entered his debit card PIN number as fast as humanly possible, and offered his wallet to Toddler as a secondary peacekeeping gift. The effort worked, and Dad and Toddler made their way to their vehicle to exit Price Chopper.

Sweaty, exasperated and defeated, Dad collapsed into the seat of his car while Toddler gleefully tossed debit and credit cards around the backseat. There was no question. Toddler had won the Battle of Price Chopper. But the War was ongoing, and Dad could only prepare in hopes of getting the upper hand in the next encounter with Independent Toddler.

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Put On A Happy Face

I've had a rough week. I won't go into detail (although part of it will be explained in a post later this weekend), but it has been one of the most trying, stressful and saddening weeks I've had in a long time. Here's the hard part about being a dad and having a bad week: I hate being upset or in a bad mood in front of my daughter.

This is a constant mental struggle for me. As her father and as someone she looks up to and is constantly watching, I feel like I should always 'put on my happy face' and be smiling and laughing. She's so quick to mimic and mirror behaviors and attitudes right now that I hate the idea of making her upset or grumpy because she can see that her dad is.

But on the other side of the coin, life isn't always a constant series of good moods. Now, I'm not trying to teach my toddler deep philosophical life lessons already. But, rather than feeling the need to constantly plaster on a fake smile, maybe I should use these bad moods to let my little girl know that it's okay to be sad sometimes. It's okay to have a bad day. It's okay to come home sometimes after a long day and cry, frown or in daddy's case, grab a beer and melt into the couch.

As parents, we all want to be invincible. We want to be the best, the happiest, the smartest, the funniest. Chances are, all of us moms and dads have far too many days where we have to struggle to put on a smile and fight through the urge to scream, cry, punch a pillow, or whatever venting mechanism we need for our frustrations. And sometimes, masking it is okay.

But sometimes, we just need to be transparent. I've realized this week that it's okay for my daughter to know that I'm sad. As happy-go-lucky of a person that I am, I'm only human, and the bad moods will come sometimes. And if I want my daughter to be emotionally healthy and feel comfortable expressing what she's feeling, then I sure as hell better do the same for her as she's growing up and developing. (Don't you love those classic 'Practice what you preach' scenarios?)

The other night when I was with my little girl, I explained to her that I was having a bad week. I told her why. I spilled my guts to my daughter who isn't even 2, and it felt amazing. She had no idea what I was saying for the most part, but she did pick up on the word 'sad'. It's a funny thing about little kids; as much as they are still learning about life, they have a very keen emotional sense. My daughter knows the difference between my goofy, lip-pouting sad face and genuine dejection. When she could tell that I was legitimately upset and not feeling like my normal, silly-daddy self, she knew. And she gave me a hug.

And it was the best I've felt all week.

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College Me vs. Dad Me

At first glance, the college version of me and the dad version of me might look incredibly similar. However, like many things, the devil is in the details. Here's an illustrated guide to determining the difference between a college student worn out from excessive partying and a young dad worn out from excessive fathering. (click to expand image)

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A Pacifier Addiction PSA

Pacifier Addiction is no joke. Every day, pacifiers destroy children and their families worldwide. Join me in my pursuit to bring awareness to this disease that is taking over our babies' lives. Watch the video below and learn about the warning signs so you can identify the pacifier addict in your own home. Together, we can make a difference!




Disclaimer: The above video is meant to be satirical and does not reflect my true beliefs. I do not think pacifier addiction is a real problem. I had a binky until I was 4 and I turned out okay...right?!

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Girls: Embrace Your Inner Nerd!

I read a great article today from Brittney Wilson at My Reality Tech called 'Little Girls Need to Learn to Code'. The article talked about the lack of females in the technology world, and noted that by teaching girls about technology at a young age, parents could be setting their daughters up to have lucrative, successful careers. Not only that, but they will be contributing to an increased representation of empowered women in the world of technology. Simply put: Techie Girl Power!

This article got me to thinking; I'm obviously a technology nerd myself. By no means am I a hardcore coder, but I have dabbled in it and through my daily personal and professional life, I am constantly using technology and exploring new aspects of it. Now, I don't intend to sit my daughter down and push coding lessons upon her. Let's face it, web coding is an 'acquired taste' regardless of whether you are a boy or a girl. However, as she grows, if she happens to start displaying some of her father's nerdier tendencies, I will support her every step of the way. And if she ultimately decides she wants to pursue a career in something that might typically be described as nerdy, then I will celebrate it and cheer her on.

Dammit! Another Improper Neutralization of Special Elements error!

There's no denying that over the past few decades, women have made amazing strides in the professional world, and little girls now live in a world where they really do have the opportunity to do anything they want to do. However, there still exists a lot of pressure on young girls to fulfill the standard 'girly girl' mold. For every powerful woman like Anita Borg (founder of the Institute for Women and Technology) that took the 'less-traveled path' in life, there's a dozen cookie-cutter dimwits like Paris Hilton who convince young girls that the important things in life are money, partying, and dogs that fit in purses.

Now, of course, Ava could ultimately have no desire to pursue the nerdier side of life. She has shown a fair share of 'girly girl' tendencies thus far, so as far as I know, she may have every desire to be a cheerleader and yearn for the title of prom queen. Fair enough. As I said, I will support her with every ounce of my being. But regardless of what path she chooses in life, I will always remind her of one thing: You have the freedom to do whatever you want with your life. Pay no attention to what others tell you to do or what others tell you is the 'right' way. If she wants to be a web developer, so be it. Maybe she'll want to be an engineer. Maybe she'll throw everybody off and decide she wants to be a Air Force pilot. A botanist. An artist. The options are infinite, and that's important for her to know.

This blog post serves as my official call for all little girls out there to embrace whatever calling or desire they have inside of them. Regardless of how outside the box or nerdy it may seem, reach out to it with open arms and explore it. You owe it to yourself to do what you love, even if it's not the typical 'girl fare'. Of course, if enough of you start pursuing these careers, maybe the tables will eventually be turned and your love WILL become typical girl fare.

And on the same note, to you parents: support your daughters! It's that simple. Be there for them and give them your confidence and love no matter what they hope to accomplish. Now of course, there are extreme exceptions: if your daughter's goal is to start a successful meth lab, it's okay to intervene and put your foot down. But I digress; the important message is that our daughters have incredible educational and professional opportunities available to them now. Let's do everything we can as mothers and fathers to not only ensure that they succeed, but ensure they succeed while doing something they truly love, regardless of how it might be labeled.

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It's A Mom's Mom's Mom's World

Look Moms, I'm not trying to start anything. In fact, my beef isn't even with you. I love all of you. Well, almost all of you (the ones regularly featured on Nancy Grace are an exception). Without Moms, us Dads would be nothing. In fact, we wouldn't even exist as fathers if it wasn't for your intense physical and emotional labor. But as an involved parent who actively seeks out information, advice and community engagement on the topic of parenting, I've found one truth to be self-evident:

Dads are getting the short end of the stick.

Whether it's online (both websites and social media), in print ads or on television, fathers just seem to get no respect (feel free to repeat this sentence in a Rodney Dangerfield voice). As I continue to dive deeper and deeper into the Dad blogiverse, I've found that we are a strong and constantly growing demographic. There are many fantastic Dad blogs and Dad-centric information sites started by fathers who clearly have a passion for fatherhood and family. But part of that is because we've HAD to do it. Nobody else is providing a venue for us, so we've created our own individual sites to encourage participation, speak our minds and let our voice be heard since nobody seems to want to welcome it.

Let's face it: the big-name companies and brands have shafted us. I'm not going to name names, but if you have ever sought out information on parenting or products for babies and children, you know what I mean. Mom this. Mom that. Mom Central. Mom Gear. Mom Chat. Mommy Blogs. Momoirs of a Geisha. Xavier's School for Gifted Momsters. No matter which website you turn to, there's a special area, if not multiple areas, devoted to the livelihood of Moms. And then there's social media. Oh, the Mom-centric social media universe. It's almost sickening how much fathers are blatantly disregarded, when we could instead be encouraged to participate and bring another important perspective to the discussion.

Papa's Got A Brand New Diaper Bag

So what about Dads? Don't we matter? I have a newsflash for all of you parenting and child-product-related companies out there: expecting fathers have questions too. We are scared shitless of what's happening during pregnancy, even though we may not be carrying the child. And once we have the child? Yep, still have questions. Still looking for answers, still looking for a way to identify and learn as we navigate through parenthood. Why does nobody seem capable or prepared to meet this desire? Additionally, believe it or not, Dads do in fact spend money on and research products for our children. In fact, though I can only speak for myself, I do a LOT of online research about products before I buy them. But few major websites have 'Dad Essentials', or 'Dad Product Corner'. But you can sure as hell bet that they are there for Moms.

And then of course, there are the classic television ads with a father nowhere in sight, or the one that does exist is a bumbling idiot who seems to be barely functional. I'd say that I'm boycotting all the brands that over-focus on Moms and neglect Dads, but I don't think there'd be any products left for me to try. Dads change diapers. Dads dress and feed their kids. Dads play with their kids. Dads even clean the house! (I know, jaw-dropper) As hard is might be for you modern-day 'Mad Men' to believe, there are involved fathers out there that would scream for joy to see a commercial geared towards Dads instead of the run-of-the-mill, cheesy Mom-centric ad.

Look, I'm in Marketing. I get it. The Mom (and especially Stay-At-Home-Mom) segment is the Marketing executive's dream target audience. And you know what, I'm not wanting to take anything away from Moms. I recognize that they make significant household decisions, that they play an integral role in family life and are especially inclined to be involved with brands they use and participate in online communities. But companies and brands better start recognizing that Dads play an important role in our childrens' lives as well, and we deserve a bit of attention too.

I brought up my frustrations on Twitter today to one website in particular. They responded by noting that they do have one blog written by a father on their website. Yep, ONE Dad blog. You know how many blogs they host that are written by mothers? TWELVE. Now does that seem like balanced coverage to you? Look, I'm not even asking for a 50-50 split here. If we could hit the 25% mark and have 3 blogs representing fathers on this site, I'd be jumping for joy.

Maybe I'm being overly sensitive. Maybe as an especially involved, proud father, I'm irrationally expecting my needs to be met by parenting websites and child product brands. But then again, is that irrational? Is it so unfair to expect the scales to be slightly tipped so that fatherhood can be given a little bit more recognition and coverage? I would tend to say no. And I believe there's an army of Dad bloggers standing strongly behind me that would agree.

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If My Toddler Tweeted

Every day I wonder what exactly is going through my daughter's head. Today though, as I tweeted my own thoughts (excessively, I'm sure), that curiosity went a little farther and I said to myself "What would she tweet about if she had the dexterity and mental capability to do so?" Below is a fictional account of what a day's worth of tweets might look like coming from my 20-month-old.

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7:02 AM: "Good morning tweeps! Could totally sleep for another hour, but going to stress everyone out and wake up now, LOL!"

7:14 AM: "Oh great, bananas and toast for breakfast AGAIN. Can't wait til I'm able to speak so I can tell my dad to make me some pancakes! #Overit"

7:38 AM: "Anyone else really getting into Jake and the Neverland Pirates this season? @DisneyChannel is killing it with this show! #YoHoHo"

8:07 AM: "Mom just took my binky away. Said I can have it again at nap time. About. To raise. HELL!"

8:51 AM: "OMG YES. RT @SesameStreet Retweet this message for your chance to win an all-expenses paid trip to meet Elmo!"

10:17 AM: "Just left Mommy & Me class. Met the cutest guy there, but he's only 15 months and I didn't even get his name (he can't talk). UGH."

11:03 AM: "RT this if you hate it when your parents tell you 'No no!' #TeamDoItAnyway"

11:27 AM: "Does anybody else have these vacuum monsters at their house? Seriously freaks me out. I don't trust that thing at all!"

11:59 AM: "At Deanna Rose Farmstead. I love the animals at the place, but why does it smell like the inside of my Diaper Genie? #NoseplugsPlease"

12:42 PM: "Suddenly feeling so exhausted..."

3:04 PM: "WOW, I totally passed out LOL! Oh well, up and ready to take on the rest of the day. Sidewalk chalk, anyone? #Leggo"

3:12 PM: "Someone please explain why cars can't be drawn on? And why I have to hold hands whenever I walk somewhere? I swear, I can't do ANYTHING."

3:55 PM: "Before I forget, #FF some of my fav brands: @Pampers @GracoBaby @BabyEinstein @ToysRUs @Britax @OldNavy (love their tops!)"

4:19 PM: "Just made Mom read 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' for like the 9th time LOL. What can I say, I love that page with all the food!"

5:37 PM: "Daddy just got home. Where does he go all day anyway? Oh well, I've got a giant poop I'm about ready to unload for him. Start the countdown!"

5:46 PM: "Mission Dirty Diaper Accomplished! Take that, @AFOMOBlog!"

6:25: PM: "About to get into the bath. Realized I should have saved that poop for the tub. Darn it! #IllDoItTomorrow"

6:32 PM: "What do you guys think about these two red things on our chests? I guess they are called 'Nee nees'? Seriously, so weird!"

7:04 PM: "Oh jeez, Dad's filming me again. Making me pretend to be a rapper or whatever. He's so easily entertained! #BabyLife"

7:48 PM: "Milk in one hand, binky in the other. Getting rocked with my favorite blanket. Life is good. Goodnight everyone, tweet you tomorrow"

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Safety vs. Privacy - The TSA Debate

Over the past few months, the TSA has come under heavy fire from the media and the general public alike. Social media has proven to be a significant forum for US citizens to air their frustrations with the new strict airport security measures, which include body scanning and full-body pat downs that seem to have no distinct boundaries in terms of who they can be used on.

It seems like whenever the clamor from one TSA news story finally dampens, another story pops up and the flames are simply fanned yet again, growing larger and larger.

In the most recent story, Andrea Fornella Abbott was arrested in the Nashville airport for first refusing to go through the body scanners, and then going ballistic on TSA agents when they were going to give her daughter a pat-down search (the daughter's exact age hasn't been released, but she's said to be 'young').

My feelings on this situation and the TSA fiasco in general are incredibly mixed.

As a parent, I sympathize with Abbott for getting upset about her daughter being subjected to a pat-down search. The pat-downs are definitely the most hotly debated aspect of the new security measures, and various stories, photos and videos have surfaced on the Internet that seem to indicate that they aren't being dealt out in a very logical fashion. Between a 95-year-old cancer-stricken woman who supposedly had to remove her adult diaper to an 8-month-old baby being patted down at my own hometown airport, the one thing that seems to be missing from these strict, calculated security procedures is common sense.

I'll be honest; if I were to be flying tomorrow and my daughter got randomly picked for a pat-down search, I'd probably flip out too. Pat me down. Please. I'm a grown man, I can at least comprehend what's going on and why. But to subject young kids who can't understand the procedure to an unnecessary pat down search seems horribly wrong. We raise our children teaching them that strangers touching their bodies is wrong, yet at the airport we are supposed to stand idly by and watch it happen and call it right. I have GOT to believe there's an alternative route that the TSA can take for screening young children to ensure safety of passengers. Do I understand that the government is trying to cover all of their bases to prevent any slip-ups? Yes. Do I think that doing full-body pat-downs of kids is necessary to cover these bases? No.

There's my skeptical side of it all. But to counter that, the common sense and logic in me doesn't understand why Abbott would even bother booking a flight if she wasn't prepared to deal with these potential scenarios during security screening. Let's face it, these procedures aren't new. If my memory (and the Internet) serves me correctly, body scanners were introduced in Fall of 2010. So coming up on a year after they were introduced, why would you even bother flying if you were opposed to a body scan? Quite frankly, Abbott's daughter probably wasn't even being considered for a pat-down until her mother freaked out and refused to go through the body scanner. She raised suspicion of the agents, and rightfully so. In fact, here is the TSA's explanation of pat-downs from their website, which in this scenario, they followed:

"Pat-downs are used to resolve alarms at the checkpoint, including those triggered by metal detectors and AIT units. Pat-downs are also used when a person opts out of AIT screening in order to detect potentially dangerous and prohibited items. Because pat-downs are specifically used to resolve alarms and prevent dangerous items from going on a plane, the vast majority of passengers will not receive a pat-down at the checkpoint."

People, face the facts: for the time being, body scanning isn't going anywhere. If you aren't prepared to go through one, then DON'T FLY. It's that simple.

Now before anyone cries foul, I'm not siding completely with the TSA here. There are two sides to every (well, almost every) story, and I believe that in this situation, there is fault on both sides. Abbott should have gone through the body scanner. And if she didn't want to do that, she should never have bought an airline ticket in the first place.

As for the TSA, I get that their response to the situation was probably just following protocol. A woman freaks out at the scanner and raises eyebrows. Everyone in her party had to get screened as a result, I get it. But as I noted above, I don't agree with young children getting pat-downs. And quite frankly, I think it's a little upsetting that the government hasn't made more of an attempt to recognize the public outcry in these situations. Every news story is met with the same canned response that the agents were following protocol. Fair enough, but maybe the protocol for children should be different. Following protocol gets a thumbs up in my book. The agents are remembering their training and doing things as advised. That's good! But it doesn't mean the PROCEDURE is good.

I'll be flying alone in September, and am fully prepared to walk through the body scanner without an issue. Hell, if a few TSA agents need to look at my bits and pieces in order to prevent someone else from potentially putting my life in danger, they can look all day as far as I'm concerned.

But when the time comes for my first trip with my daughter, I may be avoiding air travel. If news stories are still constantly popping up about children getting patted down, there's a good chance my daughter will instead be introduced to the classic road trip. Here we come, Wally World!

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Life - Just a Long Game of Super Mario Brothers

One conversation I already dread as a parent is having to explain to my daughter why bad things happen to good people. To be perfectly honest, I don't know that there's any answer I could ever give that I'd be fully satisfied with. Quite frankly, I don't KNOW why bad things happen to good people, other than the blanket fact that bad things happen to everybody. Last night, though, I posted a status on Google+ (I know, I'm so social media cool!) that got me thinking. I compared major life disruptions to losing your last life in Super Mario Brothers while battling Bowser on the last level. Without any continues.

Yes, I am a huge old-school video game nerd. Super Mario Brothers specifically holds a special place in my heart. I have fond memories of sneaking downstairs at the crack of dawn so I could fire up the NES or SNES (don't forget to blow in the game cartridge first!) and sit down for some uninterrupted Mario sessions. I anticipate that in a few years, when my daughter has the dexterity and patience, that I will show her Super Mario Brothers and wrangle her into playing some games with me.

And if I'm able to, and she develops an affinity for the game like I did, then maybe I can explain life's hardships a little more easily...by comparing it to Super Mario Brothers.

Sure, at first thought it might seem like a terrible metaphor, even a cop out. But look at the facts: Mario has been battling for years, decades even, to keep rescuing the same girl. He has kept his eyes on a single goal, and despite the fact that he's constantly getting crap thrown his way and obstacles put in front of him, he's never said 'Screw it, I'm finding myself another Princess. Keep her, Bowser!'

The struggles of Mario to endure and overcome undeserved trouble are a fictional reflection of the stuff that good people have to deal with on a regular basis in real life. Sure, we aren't trying to rescue Princesses, but each of us regularly encounters a struggle and some form of Bowser that we have to defeat. And it's never as easy as zooming from World 1 to World 8. Oh no. Solving the problems that approach us in life requires various levels of work and often, overcoming smaller struggles on the way.

Let's zoom in on the big picture for a moment and take a few specific examples from the Mario universe. Remember Goombas? Those stupid little fanged mushroom creatures that waddle around constantly? They probably have never set anyone back significantly in Mario, but they sure are a pain in the ass. We encounter Goombas every day of our lives, even as kids. Forget your lunch at home again? Goomba. Got a bad grade on your Social Studies test even though you studied for hours? Goomba. You only made the B team in volleyball even though you were better than the other girls? Goomba. (I don't know why I assume Ava will play volleyball, but I'm using it for the sake of an example here)

The day Ava starts dating will be like a giant Bullet Bill coming at me head on.

But, like Mario, as we get older, we see an increase in the difficulty of our 'levels' as well as the number of obstacles we have to face. Remember Bullet Bill? Nothing was more frustrating than coming across those perched guns. They just stare you in the face, and you know trouble is coming at some point. But how you'll respond and how you'll come out of it is completely up in the air. High school is like a full-on assault from Bullet Bills. Between teachers, athletics, peer pressure, social expectations, puberty, learning to drive, and preparing for college, you have dozens of Bullet Bills firing at you day after day, and all you can do is jump through them the best you can. Chances are, you're gonna get hit once in a while. All you can do is pick yourself up, brush yourself off and chalk it up to inexperience. Run back into the firing range and do it all over again, this time with a little earned wisdom.

And then there's adulthood. Remember the Koopa Kids in Super Mario Brothers 3? The little underlings that served as mini-bosses of each level, trying to prevent you from making progress and ultimately just pestering you? Welcome to the corporate world. I'm only 26 and I've already dealt with my share of Koopa Kids. Instead of spinning turtle shells and flaming balls, though, in real life we get to deal with spinning lies and flaming egos.

Meet your Middle Management team!

Of course, these are just a few examples. And these don't even represent some of the worst things that may happen to us in our lifetimes. Losses of family members and jobs, ended relationships, money issues and more may face us and try to break us. The beautiful thing about real life, though? We don't have to worry about the number of lives we've built up or the number of Continues we have left. The day we are born, we are given the special code (Game Genie, anyone?) that grants us unlimited opportunities to bounce back and keep pushing through our hardships.

The fact is, none of us will ever completely defeat our Bowser. We won't even see him. We live our lives in an eternal game of Super Mario Brothers, advancing world by world, level by level, each day of our lives. I'm not trying to get preachy with this post. I'm really just wracking my brain trying to figure out how to best explain to a child why crappy stuff happens. And you know what, maybe I'm even trying to figure out how to explain it to myself. Until then, I'm just going to keep on living my life, doing the best to handle all the Koopas, Bob-ombs, Chain Chomps and Thwomps that are thrown at me.

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My Daughter Can Do Tricks, Wanna See?

I've come to realize that toddlers are not much different than trick dogs.

Okay, so maybe when parents show off their child's accomplishments, it's not presented EXACTLY like that. But there are some funny parallels between the way we indirectly brag about our kids' talents and the way a proud dog owner displays their pet's ability to follow commands.

Last night, I took a short video clip of one of my daughter's most recent 'tricks'. We slick her hair back after a bath, call her Vampire Baby and tell her to go 'BLAH!' like Dracula. I know, we are strange. But as I sat there shooting the video of us prodding her to keep saying 'BLAH!' (I think I even had her hiss at one point), it got me to thinking about all the strange things that parents put on display as their young kids are developing.

I'll be frank: Amanda and I are both weird. Admittedly, I am MUCH weirder. We are also both very fun and have great senses of humor. This has led us to teach Ava lots of unique, funny things to show off to people in order to make them laugh.

There really are a lot of similarities between parents and a puppy owner trying to train their pet to do 'outside the box' tricks. Sit, roll over and shake are all great and good. But every pet owner wants to have that dog that can do something Youtube-worthy. You know, walk on it's hind legs or ice skate or do a triple gainer off the high dive. Every pet owner wishes they could be on Letterman's 'Stupid Pet Tricks', and similarly, most parents want to have people saying 'Did you see what _____ & ______'s kid can do?'

In addition to the aforementioned 'Vampire Baby', here's a handful of examples of the "tricks" that we've taught Ava over the past few months. Some are bizarre, some are pretty standard for toddlers, but either way, they are all things that we take pride in and love to show off to our family and friends.

"Hip-hop!" - When someone yells out hip-hop, Ava quickly crosses her arms in an old-school Run-DMC-esque pose. Yes, I am fully responsible for this one.

"What does _______ say?" - The list of animals continues to grow on this one. We've got puppies (Fuff!), horses (Brrrr!), cows (Moo!), ducks (Cack!), and probably the newest and most entertaining of all: Mommy (No no no no no!).

"Go swimming!" - This is a bathtub trick, so it doesn't get shown off like the others, but it's still hilarious to see her flip to her stomach and kick her feet.

These guys' arm crosses have nothing on my daughter's hip-hop stance.

Beatboxing - Previously posted in a video for Wordless Wednesday, I love to watch her mimic beatboxing. Too funny.

"Rock and roll!" - A close relative of 'Hip-hop!', when we yell out Rock and Roll, Ava sticks out her tongue like Gene Simmons.

"Can you jump?" - She tries so hard, but just hasn't quite reached liftoff yet. But watching her intensity as she bends those knees and gets high up on her toes is adorable.

"Toot?" - Always met with a scrunch-faced grunting on her part.

"Be a zombie!" - Still a work in progress, but the ultimate goal is to have her raise her arms and front of her and groan (maybe when she's a bit older I'll modify it and have her say 'BRAAAAINS!').

"Step on the bugs!" - New as of yesterday when I got home from work. She lifts her leg high in the air then stomps it down in a thunderous death strike.

That's just a sampling of the 'Stupid Toddler Tricks' that we like to show off. I'm sure there are plenty that I forgot, and I'm sure we will constantly be adding to her repertoire as she gets older and is more able to follow instructions.

Sure, maybe we parents of younger kids can act like puppy owners showing off new tricks sometimes. And when we can't do it in person, we take photos and videos and flood people's inboxes, Facebook newsfeeds, etc. But in both situations, the principle is the same: pride. We are incredibly proud of our daughter, and behind each one of those silly little tricks is subtle bragging about how funny, cute and well-developed our little girl is.

So go ahead parents. Keep on teaching that child of yours tricks and showing them off to the world. I certainly won't judge you..until you start putting them on a leash, that is.

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They make WHAT for babies?

Before I became a dad, I was pretty naive to just how much baby-related 'stuff' there was out there. One of the challenges on those first few pre-baby shopping trips is trying to separate the necessary items from the frivolous crap, especially when you are assaulted with new products that you never even knew existed. Here are 10 items (some helpful, others absurd) that I've learned about over the past couple years that I was surprised to discover.

1) Newborn mittens

Previously unbeknownst to me, newborns apparently come out of the womb like rabid wolverines, prepared to claw their own faces raw. To remedy the situation, someone invented these miniature little mittens that slip over a baby's hands. I understand the functional purpose, but these things are still kind of weird. And they never stay on, so you end up spending half of your day securing mittens to your child. And I still can't understand why nobody has designed newborn mittens that look like boxing gloves (note to self, patent this idea IMMEDIATELY).

Given their tendency to claw, hospitals should issue this costume to all newborns upon birth.

2) Diaper booster pads

When my daughter started having constant issues with wetting the bed, even in 'night diapers', I had to find a solution other than taping sponges to her body and having her sleep in the bathtub. After some Internet research (God bless you, Google) I found out about diaper booster pads. These things are essentially baby maxi pads that absorb pee. Very bizarre, but strangely effective.

3) Crib rail guards

When babies are teething, they are like little gophers. My daughter was no exception, and her crib's paint job has the damage to prove it. I was pretty surprised when I found out that they make rail guards for cribs, specifically to protect against the gnashing teeth of babies. Between the scratching and chewing, you'd think we were dealing with puppies here..

4) Potty training targets

Obviously, since I have a daughter, I won't be able to use these, but I pray that I have a son someday so I can experience the joy of buying these little colorful toilet targets for practicing aim. And let's be honest, I really want to get them for myself so I can have fun shooting my pee stream at these and pretending I'm blasting spaceships with a laser (yes, these are the things that go through my head).

5) Pee pee teepees

Another boy-related item, but I was still in awe when I first saw these at the store. I mean, just read this description: "This tent-like device…is used to cover your baby’s penis during the action-packed diaper changes to prevent you from getting sprayed by his pee." I love that the changes are described as "action-packed". I just imagine parents dressed in Hurt Locker-esque bomb disposal suits, slowly unfastening a diaper, then rushing in like "QUICK, THE TEEPEE, NOW NOW NOW!"

6) Sleep positioners

I know that babies are supposed to sleep on their backs, and these positioners reduce the risk of SIDS and yadda yadda, but good lord these things look uncomfortable. Every time I see a picture of these positioners online, the baby "model" is staring off in the distance angrily, probably thinking "Somebody get me the hell out of here or I'm going to start scratching some faces."

This baby is already plotting how he'll get revenge on his parents for putting him in this thing.

7) Shopping cart cover

I had never heard of these, but I'm glad they exist after reading that 72% of shopping carts have fecal matter on them. Seriously people? Is it that much work to wash your hands between pooping and going to the grocery store? Anyway, these covers are pretty cool, although they are a huge pain in the ass to get secured to the cart. As if taking a baby shopping wasn't involved enough, these things kind of add insult to injury.

8) Baby wraps

I had heard of baby backpacks/baby carriers, but never these bizarre-looking wraps. When a parent is wearing one, it looks like their shirt came alive and snatched the baby up in order to eat it. Supposedly these provide better support and comfort for the parent, but I think I'd be willing to accept a little back soreness if it meant I didn't have to look like a goon in a baby-snatching sari.

Don't even try to tell me that this guy is wearing this thing voluntarily.

9) Wipes warmer

Give me a break. I'm convinced that babies whose parents use wipes warmers are destined to grow up and be on 'My Super Sweet 16', demanding that they get a Mercedes for their birthday. Newsflash parents, you were born with two built-in wipes warmers: your hands. And if your baby is already prissy about getting their butt cleaned with a cool/room temperature wipe, you are in for a long, long ride. Might as well start filling out the application for boarding school now.

10) Nursing covers

I guess for some reason, I always assumed that nursing mothers just whipped their boob out in public with no sense of shame or modesty. Quite frankly, I think nursing covers kind of look like reversed superhero capes. Somebody should make a red nursing cover with the big yellow Superman 'S', that way when a mom is done nursing, she can just flip it around to her back and look totally badass.

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My Dad Kryptonite, Revealed

I still remember the day I developed my aversion to snakes. I was in Tennessee, or Kentucky or some state in that general region. My parents had taken us on a God-forsaken trip to the South to see such attractions as Dollywood (yes, that would be an amusement park started by Dolly Parton) and stay in a cabin in the woods. That particular day, we were hiking up a mountain, when we stumbled across a large crowd stalled at one point on the path. There was a large rattlesnake coiled up in the middle of the trail, and everyone was frozen as the reptile shook its tail in warning.

Now, while this creature didn't bite me or anyone else in the group, it was still a moment that resonates with me today. As a kid, seeing a single animal put the brakes on a group of 20+ adults is a pretty significant sight. Clearly, they were afraid of this thing, so why shouldn't I be?

To this day, I still hate snakes. My encounters with them have been few and far between, but I still am repulsed at the idea of coming across one. Strangely, this fear doesn't translate to other 'creepy crawlies', so to speak. I take no issue with bugs or spiders (in fact, you can ask some of my old college friends about the day I ate a live spider after snatching it  mid-air), and even the small lizards that bound around my parents yard instill more fascination than fear inside of me.

My aversion was brought back full force the other day when I received a picture message from Amanda that showed a dead snake she found a mere 50 yards or so from our apartment. Oh crap. Just looking at a picture on my phone raised my heart rate and caused a string of curses to run through my mind. What if there were more? Is there a nest I need to set fire to? What if they sneak their way into the sewer system and bite my ass while I'm on the toilet?

The picture message that immediately weakened my powers.

This overly dramatic fear of snakes presents one big problem for me, though: I'm a dad. I'm not supposed to be afraid of anything.

All of us dads recognize the fact that, to our kids, we are veritable Supermen. We are there to protect, serve, and show courage in all perilous and scary situations. So what am I supposed to do if I'm ever with me daughter and happen to stumble across a snake? Well, I'll admit. I'm still going to act like a little pansy. Because snakes are my "Dad Kryptonite". And we all have our "Dad Kryptonite", that one major thing (or in some cases, many little things) that make us immediately drop our tough guy facade and show our weakness. I know I'm not alone. I took to Twitter in order to receive some support, and learned I'm not the only one. Other Dads noted their own forms of Kryptonite, including tornadoes and bugs.

As a comic book dweeb, I'm very much in tune to the fact that even the most powerful heroes and villains have their weaknesses. Heck, incarnations of the Green Lantern have had weaknesses to wood and the color yellow (a fear of snakes doesn't look so stupid now, huh?). As much as I never want to crack in front of my daughter, I know it's going to happen at some point. And since I know it's coming, all I can do is plan for it, and do my best to turn it into a teaching opportunity.

After all, fear is a funny thing. We aren't born with it. Hell, Ava has proven time and time again, through her daredevil climbing and diving escapades, that she came out of the womb with no fear or trepidation whatsoever. But as she's grown older, she's developed fears of her own, and lately I've been trying to help her overcome them. But as many times as I might tell her the vacuum cleaner is "nice" and give it kisses, or touch the doorstopper to show her that it's not going to pull my arms off, those fears still linger. They may be around for a long time, and that's okay. Being afraid of things is normal, regardless of how silly or meaningless other people might think it is. If, in 20 years, she still has a fear of doorstoppers, then so be it. She may earn herself a spot on some TLC reality show, but I won't judge her.

Dads, we may not want them to, but our kids will ultimately benefit from learning about our Dad Kryptonite. They need to know that even the toughest of heroes have things that they are afraid of and make their defenses come crashing down. While my daughter will be exposed to the 'human' side of my character, I know my powers of (almost) fearlessness, courage and super strength will remain intact. She'll just know to never dangle a snake in front of my face, or the consequences will be dire. And of course by dire, I mean I'll produce a deafening, high-pitched shriek and run for my life. Hey, but maybe then I can add super speed to my list of powers?

Chime in below, Dads; what is YOUR Dad Kryptonite?

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You've Got A Friend In "ZeeZee"

Well, it's happened. Our daughter,  just shy of 19 months old, abandoned us for a friend.

Okay, maybe I'm being a little melodramatic. But when you're a first-time parent, sometimes little events can trigger a tidal wave of emotional response, especially when the event is completely indicative of your little one growing up and needing you even slightly less.

Saturday evening, we were all at a fish fry hosted by Nana and Papa D's (Grandma and Grandma on mom's side, for those who aren't in the know) neighbors. Included were a number of kids, including an adorable, friendly 5-year-old girl named Izzy. While 'big kids' can often be too busy with their own activities to notice somebody as little as Ava, Izzy immediately took to her and befriended her.

Now, Ava has had encounters with kids before, but it was all pretty inconsequential. What happened next, neither Amanda and I were prepared for. Ava trotted off with Izzy (who affectionately became known as "ZeeZee" to Ava), leaving us in the dust without looking back. The two proceeded to the yard and played Ring Around The Rosie, kicked a ball around and ate watermelon; and not once did Ava look for us, come running for us or show any concern about what Mom and Dad were up to.

Sure, this may not seem like a big deal to the average person. But we are talking about a little girl who spazzes out when her own grandparents come over and she thinks Mom or Dad are leaving. Yesterday she spent the majority of the day clinging to one of our legs in a daylong fit of separation anxiety.

These children had an unfortunate encounter with Medusa while playing Ring Around The Rosie.

So why the sudden change of heart? What kind of spell did this 5-year-old girl cast over Ava that made her drop us like a bad habit? While Ava played with Izzy, I'm sure Amanda and I both looked like sad little prairie dogs, constantly popping our heads up and looking over in the yard, hoping that at some point Ava would show some sort of need for us.

It's all kind of ironic. As frustrated as we may get on Ava's "extra clingy" days, we really would never want it to end. If she woke up one morning and suddenly showed complete independence and no need for either of us, I think our hearts would collectively shatter into a million pieces.

Her 'alone' playtime with "ZeeZee" was heartwarming. It was exciting. But it was frightening. While on the surface, it's just a toddler and a Kindergartner having innocent fun, in my mind it was like a flash forward to Ava being in Junior High and running out to go to a sleepover every chance she got. It was Ava turning 16, and realizing that with a driver's license (or friends who could drive), she wasn't as tethered to the house anymore. It was her leaving for an out-of-state college, coming back only when she was low on food or needed to do laundry. It was a spark that will inevitably contribute to a burning desire for independence that will only grow as she gets older.

Ava is still little, and obviously still needs us. But as she grows up and meets more Izzies, Susies, Lizzies and Julies (like that rhyme I spit?), that tendency to gravitate towards friendships (and away from Mom and Dad) will only increase. And of course, I want her to have friends. I just don't want her to ever forget that Mom and Dad will always be her best friends.  Hey, I'd like to think I can rock a pretty good game of Ring Around The Rosie too!

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