On Twitter, it is possible to create lists into which you can group and categorize the people you follow. As I’ve grown my presence there, I’ve seen myself added to more and more lists (you get notified when it happens).
Yesterday, I was added to one that was simply called “parents.”
And it made me a little sad.
I couldn’t let Easter Sunday, the day Zombie Jesus arose from his grave!, go by without a zombie post. And, since one of those posts is merely a photo, you get two! It’s an Easter miracle!
The post with some actual content is two years old, and it’s all about a young girl’s attempt at befriending my then-infant son. She was visiting for Easter and wanted my then seven-month-old son to be her bestie forever. He mostly wanted to drool. So…good luck with that, kid.
And yet, somehow making friends with a brainless blob might be easier than making friends with the terror that my son has become at two.
Original Post: Baby Friendly
The second post I’ve resurrected – the aforementioned photo – is also two years old, but it’s adorableness is timeless.
He gave up his dignity for Lent
My son is out to get me. And I’m not just talking about the time he ordered a Big Mac at KFC.
As a kid, you have a tendency to see the adults in your life as the bad guys, especially when you’re a teenager. When you become a parent, it’s obvious that it’s the children that are the problem; dastardly little beasts who materialize in the middle of your already-in-progress life and proceed to wreak havoc.
Maybe one day my son will write a blog about how I’m the Big Bad in his life, but in my version of the story, I’m the superhero and he’s my nemesis.
In fact, there are a few famous villains from the pop culture rogues gallery that my kid has lately been bringing to mind.
I have a trashcan full of shitty diapers IN MY HOUSE.
The last thing I need is more smells, free or not.
But thanks anyway!
No better way to close out this blog’s best year yet than with a photo of the little guy who makes all my bitching possible.
So here he is, enjoying his first snowfall – and now that we live down south, probably his last for a while:
Thanks for reading! See you in 2013.
Happy New Year!
My son is over two years old now, and aside from a very minor trim session (not a double-entendre), he’s never had his hair cut. His hair is quite long and very curly, and as a result, strangers occasionally mistake him for a girl.
The first ten times it happened, I was annoyed. But eventually it got me thinking:
Would my son make a good-looking girl? And how would my life be different if I had a daughter instead of a son?
Parenting isn’t a competition.
When it comes to raising kids, comparing how you’re doing to other parents or measuring your kid’s development against others their age is just not a good idea. Children are like snowflakes – annoying, loud, inconvenient, smelly snowflakes. They’re all annoying and loud and inconvenient and smelly in their own unique ways.
Every parent is unique too. We all have different styles, even compared to our spouses. Making it about who’s winning is poisonous to your relationship and potentially damaging to your offspring.
That said, when it comes to which of parent our son takes after, I am totally crushing my wife.