My 7-Year-Old’s OSHA Complaint
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My daughter is only seven, but she’s already worked the worst job in the world.
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Writing about parenting, fatherhood, life, and all things ambiguous
When Your Child Has a Chronic Illness, It Changes Everything
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When you’re a parent, you eventually find some sort of rhythm. It doesn’t happen overnight. In fact, it probably takes years for almost everyone. The addition of another child at any point along the road typically requires a reset.
Read MoreI Sign My Kids Up for Activities for Me
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I’ve come across a lot of articles recently about the dangers of overscheduling your children’s free time. And while I get it, overscheduling is not something I worry about. Sure, it’s important for children to have time for free play and to wind down from school and other structured activities, but in my experience, underscheduling can be problematic too.
Read MoreI Talked to a Stranger at the Park and I Guess I’m an Extrovert Now
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The kids and I went to the park one day recently and I met someone. Honestly, it was kind of magical. He was a grandfather with shaggy gray hair, glasses, and a mustache like a silver comb. His granddaughter was a peppy little girl with icy blond hair and bare feet which were dirty enough to suggest they had been there for a while before our arrival.
Read MoreHow Youth Sports Helped Me See the World From My Children's Perspective
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It's just sports, right?
Read MoreAn England Adventure - Part I: Knott in a Rush
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The line snaked around in front of us, chasing its tail slowly. It was like the queue for Disney ride but the reward for making it through was confusion about where to go next. We assured the kids it would move quickly but we were lying. It was slow. Slower than slow.
Read MoreNighttime in December
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It was a cold night, but not so cold that the boys didn’t insist on going barefoot outside. We were whittling away the sneakily long hours between dinner time and bed time by milling about in the driveway, playing with toys, old and new, and waiting for my oldest, Jacob, to finish drawing train tracks with a piece of bright pink chalk. I watched the last of the soft December light drop away behind our neighbors’ houses to the west. The jagged silhouettes of palm trees against the orange sky is one of my favorite Florida hallmarks. Cool winter evenings are pretty much the reason people choose to live in Florida. The air is crisp and there’s a certain quietness that descends with the sun. Being able to enjoy the chilly night air in a long-sleeved shirt and shorts is also a plus.
Read MoreAn ER Visit and How My 6-Year-Old Reminded Me I Wasn’t a Terrible Parent
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My 3-year-old broke his foot the day before Thanksgiving. He was “skating” around in his socks and fell. He might have hit it on furniture (that’s my guess at least), but it’s unclear because no one really saw it. He says he just hit it on the floor, but are you really going to believe that guy?
Read MoreThoughts on Riding Out Hurricane Irma in Central Florida With Three Kids
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The days before Irma’s arrival were typical for Florida under threat of hurricane. I’ve lived here all my life and if there is one thing you can count on it is that Floridians prepare for hurricanes with flamboyant zeal. It is our state’s favorite pastime. Boarding up windows, buying water and snack foods, hoarding batteries, filling up our cars and seventeen plastic containers with gas: We love that stuff! In most cases, the preparation goes to waste when the storms veer off into the Atlantic or swerve into the Gulf of Mexico. Perhaps it’s a bit macabre, but you can almost feel a whiff of disappointment in the hot, humid air when the hurricanes turn away and leave us to consume ungodly amounts of granola bars in our air-conditioned homes.
Read MoreGuns, Children, and Privilege
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I was pushing the boys on the swings at our favorite park one day when a kid ran up carrying a gun. The boy was maybe ten years old. He was white. He had blond hair that was short and fuzzy. And oh, I should probably mention, the gun was a toy.
Read More6 Pointless Things I Say to My 3-Year-Old
/Trying to reason with a 3-year-old is roughly the equivalent of simultaneously having a root canal while repeatedly banging one’s head against the wall.
Read MoreLetter to My Future Self
/Dear 20-Years-From-Now Me,
I hope this letter finds you well. My apologies for the boring opening; I don’t write a lot of letters, particularly letters to myself.
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In the spring of 2019, less than a year before the world shut down, my wife, three kids, and I took a spring break trip from our home in Florida to the UK. Michelle and I traveled quite a bit before we had kids, including a 10-month stay in Cambridge, where I completed a one-year master’s program. Since having kids, we’ve rarely left the house, let alone the country.