Doodlebops Live! And Some VERY Interesting Facts About Me

We took my daughter to see the Doodlebops LIVE concert over the weekend. I swear, I thought she was going to rip her Pull-up off and throw it onto the stage.

Her little best friend, and her parents, joined us and between the two of them they screamed like fanatical Elvis fans for about 45 minutes straight. I have to say, it was pretty funny watching them trying to dance and sing along. My daughter kept telling the wife and I “Look! It’s the Doodlebops!…..over there!” followed by “Dance Daddy… Dance!!”

Those creepy Doodlebop kids really know how to put on a show. Moe was breakdancing for about 30 minutes straight and because of it started losing his voice. Deedee pretty much did 99% of the singing, and I’m not sure what Rooney’s talent is yet other than being freakin’ tall. Seriously, the guy is a giant and looked pretty scary when he came close to us. Most of the kids (me included) got quiet and backed up a little like he was about to eat everybody.

Overall it was amusing. My parents never took me to anything growing up and now being a parent I find taking my daughter to these types of things very entertaining. We’re seeing the Wiggles in the few weeks; I can’t wait to see her reaction to them. We'll be sure to keep that Pull-Up tightly secured.

VERY Interesting Facts You Might Not Know About Me

Rick tagged me for this meme:

1. I can play the accordion. But I can only play Depeche Mode songs on it. It’s a long story on how this happened, but the short version is I wanted to take piano lessons but my Dad got a “really good deal” on accordion lessons because some guy owed him a favor. Anyhow, I was really into 'DM', their songs were pretty easy to play and that's how it happened. If you want to experience Depeche Mode, you’ve got to hear it on an accordion.

2. In college, I worked as a page on some random TV sitcoms. The majority of the “stars” and guest actors were just plain rude, had major attitudes, and were overall complete idiots. A few come to mind...I won't name drop even though I'm really tempted. On the flipside, a few were really pleasant and truly friendly - Gene Wilder, John Larroquette, Amy Jo Johnson…the 'Pink Ranger' on the original Power Rangers. And she played the guitar and sang too. I guess she learned that in Ninja school.

3. I met my wife in Paris; she was living and working out there. Our first date was a 4-hour dinner in Paris's Latin Quarter. Our second date was 9 days and ended in Venice, Italy.

4. My favorite shows of all time are The Simpson’s, Golden Girls, Knight Rider, and Small Wonder. I have a special connection with Golden Girls because it reminds me of my late grandmother; I use to watch the show with her. And I think Dorothy's humor is funny. I’m still not sure why I like Small Wonder…

5. I had lunch with Debbie Gibson years and years ago (I mentioned this awhile back and got lots of emails about it.) It really wasn’t that big of a deal. We met through some mutual PR/Marketing people and had lunch with a few other people. Later that day she had her manager messenger me 30 tickets to her show at the House of Blues in Hollywood the next night with a signed card that said "Tony, Stay Cool Forever! Love Debbie." It was on my refrigerator for years; the wife even found it funny.
All I can say is that she was very friendly, had a great sense of humor, and could really sing. I wasn't a fan of her music back when she was popular (remember? I was too busy playing Depeche Mode on the accordion...) but now, I find her music catchy. I played “Shake Your Love!” to my daughter recently which was pretty entertaining. Maybe next time I should tell I tell her “Debbie once sang this to Daddy”

Then she’ll probably tell me to turn the Doodlebops back on and to stop shaking my love...

A Message to Toddlers: Nose Picking Is Very Unpatriotic!

Can somebody please tell me why toddlers are so obsessed with picking their nose? Because I’ve been trying to figure it out since my daughter mysteriously figured out she can shove her fingers up there at the most undesirable times, like when I’m eating pea soup or guacamole.

And trust me, this is not good dining entertainment.

So far, I’ve come up with a few theories that might have caused this behavior:

1. She’s watched seniors do it. Which only proves my theory that seniors are bad influences on children!
2. Elmo probably sang about it. That’s what I get for trusting a puppet that speaks about himself in the third person.
3. Rap music. I’m pretty sure they glorify nosepickin’ along with pimpin’.

Now I’m not on a mission to stop this behavior.

The wife has her own methods to stop the digging – which is just to gently move her hand and telling her to stop. I’ve taken it a step further, reinforcing my parenting technique of giving an explanation of consequences along with the discipline.

What to tell a nose picking toddler:

1. If you keep picking your nose, you’ll eventually pick your brain out.
2. Stop picking your nose or nobody will be your friend, even Elmo.
3. Every time you pick your nose, a Fairy dies.
4. Snow White isn’t coming over to play; she doesn’t want your boogers all over her pretty dress.
5. Picking your nose produces harmful emissions that contribute to global warming and rising sea levels that will make millions of polar bears instantly homeless and eventually die. I don’t think you want start kindergarten with that kind of baggage.

And to help the cause, here’s a nose picking coloring page. Because everybody knows kids learn better when they color pictures of animals.

Please Stop Picking Your Nose. I Don’t Want To Die.

And Don’t Forget To Empty The Gas from Mommy’s Minivan.

Exterminator Wanted! Apparently My House Is Infested With Monsters

Can anybody give me a referral? Because I’ve had this conversation with my daughter about 500 times this past week:

Daughter: DAD-DEE!!!!
Me: Whatup buttercup?
Daughter: Scary Monster…
Me: Where?
Daughter: Over there
Me: Where?
Daughter: Ohhhhhhh--VER THERE!!!

What I shouldn’t have done the first time she said this:
Walk over, poke behind the sofa, said “dear God, what the…!!!” then grab my arm, scream and flip myself over yelling “GO GET MOMMY!! GO GET MOMMY!!! AAHHHHH!!!”

I expect social services to arrive at my door any second now.

Sometimes I forget she’s only 2. It’s easy these days - she can say her ABC’s, count to 20, knows the entire lyrics to “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town” and “Hot Dog” (from Mickey Mouse clubhouse.) She’s practically all grown up, except for that pooping on the potty thing. But hey, plenty of adults don't quite get that, right?
The wife doesn’t agree. Now I’m tasked with, as she calls it “ridding the house of monsters that won’t do anymore harm to our daughter that I’ve already produced.”

So I came up with a few ideas on how to get rid of these monsters....

How to get rid of monsters without resorting to expensive exorcisms: Toddler Edition

1. Radioactive Holy Water. Put some water in an old saltshaker and microwave it. Sprinkle around the doors and windows.

2. Wear a Blanket over the head. Everybody knows monsters can’t penetrate blankets. Don’t ask me to explain it; I just know it has something to do with the law of physics and gambling.

3. Monster Trap. Put some M&M’s on a plate with a box over it and stick & rope trigger (ala: Roadrunner) OR leave the TV on with M&M’s in front of it and the monster will get “sucked in.” Make sure Dora or the Doodlebops is on.


Does anybody else have any other ideas on getting rid of monsters? Just in case...

The Questions 2-Year Olds Ask And How NOT To Answer

My daughter has been very inquisitive these days - she's always asking me questions such as “What are you doing Dad-DEE?”, “What’s that Dad-DEE?” It’s almost like having my own Cousin Balki. A few of my recent favorites:

Daughter: (pointing to the evening sky) What’s that, Dad-DEE?
Me: That’s a star. And it’s not in rehab
Daughter: A TAR!?! (excited)

Daughter: (pointing to a person) What’s that, Dad-DEE?
Me: That’s a man wearing a dress, you can tell because he has an Adams apple and mustache.
Daughter: A MUSTACHE!? (excited)

Daughter: (pointing to Christmas decorations at the mall - in October!!) What’s that, Dad-DEE?
Me: That’s Santa Claus. He brings presents on Christmas for everybody that goes pee-pee and poopy on the potty
Daughter: PRESS-ANTS!? (excited)

Daughter: What are you doing Dad-DEE? (playing this new Pirates game on the computer)
Me: If mommy asks, I’m paying bills
Daughter: BILLS!? (excited)

Daughter: What are you doing Dad-DEE? (honking the horn at some car that almost hit me)
Me: I’m honking the horn at that lady because she’s on crack!
Daughter: CRACK?

If she starts telling people they’re on crack the wife is going to shoot me…(again)

I Want to Outsource Potty Training

This potty training business is MUCH harder than I thought. And it seems everybody I talk to has some advice on the issue - even those with kids who are 40 and those who don't have any. This one woman at work was telling me what I should do because she “potty trained” her dog and that made her qualified as a “pet-parent."

And then there are those parents who want convince me that their kid is Doogie Houser, like this one mom I chatted with at a birthday party on Saturday who told me that her 13-month old daughter uses the potty “all the time” followed by “and how old is yours…?”
I told her that her baby should be on “That’s Incredible!” She gave me a weird look, I think only because she’s too young to have ever seen “That’s Incredible!”

Things we've tried so far:

1. Potty Party: She pooped once and then she was over the party business
2. Bribing with Candy: Worked once, and that's about it. And I’m weary about giving her too much candy going down this path.
3. Toilet DVDs: We picked up that Elmo one where Elmo sits on the pot once and then talks and sings about it for 30 minutes. It didn't work, she’s 2 not 5. And did you know Elmo has a dad?
4. Lead by example: Going with mommy, and locking the door when it’s my turn (she walked in on me once and it totally confused her)
5. Diaper-less: She had no qualms about just going anywhere.
6. Wearing Underwear: Still goes OR holds it until she gets a diaper before going to bed.
7. Potty Books: Nothing. I finding these books to be a sham since it seems they’re geared more for 4 or 5 year-olds or even just the adults buying them. They don’t show enough doing because they get caught up in some long-winded story.

Now I’m starting to use unconventional methods:

1. Monsters, Inc (movie): She LOVES this movie, although she thinks Sully is Cookie Monster no matter how many times I tell her he’s his cousin. There’s this one part where Boo goes to the toilet then I tell my daughter “See! Boo uses the potty…” This gets her to go sit on the toilet.
2. Princesses: I’m not sure when or how it happened, but my daughter is really into princesses -I think it's because they can talk to animals and they wear “pretty” dresses. Anyhow she really wants a dress, but we keep telling her princesses use the potty. This gets her to sit, but nothing else.
3. Old School: My great-grandmother potty-trained me and about 18 cousins in one day by going “old world” on them. Feeding them salty crackers, making them drink water, even feeding them dried fruit to make them go and pretty much sitting them on the toilet all day. I’m not sure which village she was in, but apparently they did this when kids were between 18-24 months because there was no such thing as disposable diapers. I tried a version staying home all day, but it didn’t work. It was just messy and a whole lot of whining. When I did put the diaper on for the night, she pooped.
4. My own Potty Picture Book: I’m making strange little illustrations (I’m an artist remember?) of nothing but everybody and their mama sitting on the toilet. Kids, princesses, astronauts, teachers, monkeys, everything. Current books don't do enough. I know my daughter sits when she sees, not because of the story, so I’m hoping this will assist in the endeavor.
5. Peer-Pressure: Her cousins go to school and so does the crazy 4-year old next door that she idolizes. She really wants to go, but we keep telling her school means using the toilet. I’m not one for peer-pressure, but it seems to be having an influence.
6. Outsource: I’m looking…(India?)

Parents, any unconventional methods that worked? I’m having nightmares about having a 7 year old eating nothing but chili beans and still wearing diapers... and Huggies adding me to their VIP club.

“Stop It! Because I Said So!” And Alternative Forms Of Discipline

Growing up, I would hear lots of “No’s!” without any explanations. I eventually started asking “Why?” but got that classic parent answer “Because I said so!” I hated that.
Now that I’m in the parenting role, I’m taking a different approach - I’m making it a point giving reasons why.
Actual scenarios when my daughter does something she shouldn’t:

Wife: Don’t stand so close to the TV
Me: Move back! If you stand too close your eyes will burn from the radiation, and then you’ll never get into college and become a princess.

Wife: Don’t eat that!
Me: Drop that! It could be bird poop and if you eat it you’ll turn into a bird and then you’ll never be able to eat Chicken nuggets without being called a cannibal. And nobody likes cannibals. Nobody!!

Wife: Don’t pull the dogs' tail
Me: Stop that! He doesn’t like it when you pull his tail. He told me last night after you went to sleep.

Wife: Put that toy back, it’s time to go
Me: That toy has lead in it; if you hold it too long you’ll grow a third arm. And trust me, you’ll have no control over it.

Wife: Get in your car seat so we can go
Me: If you don’t sit in your car seat the police will arrest mommy and then you won’t have a mommy anymore. You do want a mommy, right?

Somehow I can just imagine when she has kids she'll probably tell them "Because I said so!"...

When Mommy’s Gone, It’s Gummy Bears and Ice Cream for Breakfast (Hooray!)

Single parents, I empathize with you. I just don’t understand how in the world do you do it. And especially those with small kids --- you people are either crazy or deserve a medal (and a cookie -- a good one too...like from Nordstrom's, or J.C. Penny's)

The wife’s job sent her to Canada early Sunday morning and pretty much left me to play the role of single parent for a few days. Which meant more 'daddy and daughter time' other than my normal one day a week when the wife is studying for her GMAT. I do pretty well on those days. In fact, some might say almost at a 'professional' level.
I didn’t do too bad on the first solo day (piece of cake!), did alright on the second (how in the world am I going to get these tangles out of her hair!), and today, well now I’m counting the hours until the wife gets back. This morning I forgot “the stinky blanket” (the whole world stops if “the stinky blanket” isn’t around) and gave in to her breakfast demands of popcorn ("crackcorn" as she calls it.)
Today when our sitter saw my daughter she told me that she could tell mommy wasn’t around (How? Can she smell the Chicken McNuggets odor?)

It’s tough doing simple things that I once took for granted, like going to the bathroom in peace. Unless, of course, I want to hear screams (DAD-DEEEEE!!!) accompanied by pounding and little fingers and toes sliding under the closed door like an alien trying to attack and then eat me.

No sir-ee, it just ain’t right.

Yesterday while my daughter was playing in her toy kitchen I made a run for the “Loo”, the screaming followed me (HA! - I can still run faster!) When I closed and locked the door behind me the yelling stopped followed by a mysterious silence (is she alright? Maybe I should check on her…? But I really, really have to go...it's been , like 2 days and I ate Chili Beans for breakfast---why!?) Then she slid her poopie book (the potty training one we use when we put her on the toilet) under the door and said “Daddeee here, poo-peeee!” and then I heard feet running back to her room while singing her poopie song.

That was weird...

I still haven’t been able to take away “the stinky blanker” to throw it in the washer machine (she sleeps with it in a tight kung-foo grip.) I still can’t fix her hair -- It’s just not humanly possible! She's looking like a mini version of Phil Spector. And her diet consist of popcorn, goldfish, tortilla chips, and freezed-dried peas (Yes! veggies...success!!)
The wife is sure going to love me when she gets back.

HELP! Aliens Abducted My Sweet Baby Girl And Replaced Her With A Toddler!

Hurry! Call Moulder, Oprah, Velma, Inspector Gadget, Antonio Villaraigosa, and maybe even Dr. Spock (you know the one with the elf ears.)

I think the incident happened sometime last weekend; I’m not sure exactly when, maybe while I was sleeping , or ordering some popcorn chicken at KFC (darn you KFC! First my chicken changes and then my kid!) My daughter began doing the most peculiar things - things completely out of the ordinary that were unheard of 2 weeks ago.
The weird part is that she still looks the same, my pleasant little baby girl (perhaps a little taller, less baby dimples around the arms and knees...) with that laugh and smile that makes me melt into a big softy. But now, there’s this shift in attitude as if something takes over her brain and turns it into a demanding teenager -- and she’s not even 2 yet! It just doesn’t make any sense... (head in hands)

---Morning---
(Peeking into her room slowly)

Me: Good morning!
Daughter: (happy. confusion. then eyes turn red) I WANT MOMMY! I WANT MOMMMMMY!!!

(wife comes in calmly, picks her up. still for 2 seconds....hisses at me…)

Daughter: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I WANT DADDY! I WANT DADDY!! (dark clouds form in room, fire engages from mouth, stuffed animals burning in hot lava – starts speaking in latin "Necronomcon ex Mortis…")

---Lunch---

Me: Do you want peas?
Daughter: NO!!!!
Me: O.K.

(3-second pause)

Daughter: I WANT PEAS!! (crying, whining) I WANT PEASsss!! (knocking over things, arms flailing all over the place with no place to go - like a Paula Abdul backup dancer.)

---Bedtime---

Me: Time to brush your teeth..!
Daughter: (Jaguar growl, then climbs the wall on all fours to the ceiling, spewing acid at me below - grabbing towels for protection while Lorena Mckennitt music plays in the background…)

It has to be aliens, right? Or possibly some brainwashing by Elmo (I never did like his whiny voice - he's telling kid subliminal messages - I just know it!!)
Fellow parents, when does it end? I want my baby girl back...

So What? Your Kid Is Crying, So Is Ours. It’s All-Good.

We had some friends and their ‘youngin’s’ visit from the far away country of San Antonio, Texas this week. We like these people, we’ve known them for years and I think they think we’re cool because we’ve been to the Alamo once.

As with most visitors, we spent some time down at Disneyland (aka, ‘the tantrum capital of the world’) I’m not exactly sure what it is about the place, but I’ve seen more kids crying there than any History Channel show on child labor of the 1800’s.
In retrospect, the place can be too much for toddlers – the waiting in lines, the $14 “spinning lights” that you don’t buy them, the $8 chicken strips they wanted then don’t eat, the kid wanting out of the stroller to run into crowds... It’s enough to make any parent break down.
The friends’ 16-month old and our 20-month old were in peril mid-day. These kids needed naps before they turned into nukes. So the other dad and I did what most fathers do when it’s our turn to mind the kids when they sleep while the women were out hunting for game (or shopping.) We headed for the nearby hotel bar (at the Grand Californian) and relaxed outside in a quiet area, on rocking chairs, talking about Football (Ha! Just kidding.) Actually I think he’s the only dude in Texas that doesn’t watch Football.

Later in the day, the kids were at it again. The whining, the screaming, the crying, but something was different – strangers don’t even twitch when a kid is in breakdown mode, which is something we’re not entirely use to. It was practically expected there.
Usually while out some childless couple, single, or empty nester always shoot us some kind of “stink-eye” as if saying “Can’t you control your kid!!” if the kid breaks down in public. Like in some restaurant, we go into panic mode where we make some impulsive emergency exit plan (“you finish eating, I’ll take her outside, I’ll be back in 2 minutes, pay the bill, GO! GO! GO!!)
Parents would make great CIA agents because we’re trained on sensing circumstances and making quick decisions that produce immediate results (or people will die!!)

Being among that crowd with the freedom to relax almost makes the price of admission worth it. Almost.


EXTRA! Some Disneyland tips we found for those like us traveling with young kids:
1. If the kid needs a nap in a quiet place, park the stroller inside (or outside in the garden) at the Grand Californian Hotel. There are rocking chairs outside and nice comfy sofa’s inside and the waitresses will even serve you booze!
2. If you can, do the Fantasyland rides first thing in the morning or after 8pm (if the kid hasn’t fallen asleep yet.)
3. The parks have this place called a Baby Center where you can pretty much nurse, feed, or escape.
4. If the kid is into it, do the Princess lunch at Ariel’s grotto (make reservations.) The girls loved it and surprisingly it wasn’t expensive ($20 for salad, entrée, dessert and drink) and toddlers under 3 eat for free (they’ll make you some special little plate at no charge.) Oh, and the most important part - the Princesses are pretty easy on the eyes (which always makes it more enjoyable for us dads.)

Waking Up At 4:30 A.M. Is Wrong! Just Like Grown Men Wearing Crocs Is Wrong!

Help! Game over man, game over! (me with my pillow over my head this morning.)
My 'been sleeping through the night since 5 months old' daughter has decided to shake things up a little.
For the past 3 nights, she’s been waking us up and asking for popcorn (“EAT! EAT! pe’corn! Pe’corn!”) at around 4:30 A.M. It’s as if the ghost of Orville Redenbacher appears to her every morning and tells her to wake the parents up for some real buttery (artificially flavored) popcorn – at that very moment. It’s driving us a little crazy and we’re hoping this doesn’t become a habit.

We’ve been really good about keeping her on a schedule for some time; she goes to sleep every night at 8 and wakes up around 7, like clockwork. Sure, we’ve heard stories about other people’s kids waking up at random times- but thats other people, not us! We’re special like that, right(?) we recycle!

Some other parents have resorted to the “let them cry” method. Which has worked for us a little in the past, to a certain extent - like when we know nothing else is wrong and she’s just tired and grouchy. We don’t resort to that often but that Orville (Colonel Sander’s wimpy geeky evil younger brother) is one crafty fella.
I'm looking for some parental hints and tips- does anybody have any suggestions or experience with kids waking up and not wanting to go back to sleep?


So you want to know what I thought of the Super Bowl? (Woo! Woo! Wooo!!)

To tell you the truth - I don’t even know who played. Yes, really. I have gone to ‘super bowl commercial parties’ in the past. The kind where they mingle, turn down the sound when the “game” is on, and then turn it up when the commercials are on.

I didn’t know who played then either.

Sharp Objects Aren’t For Toddlers; They’re For Throwing At Attacking Ninja’s And Their Angry Diseased Monkeys

What would you do if your kid comes running to you with a handful of pushpins in her hands, in her hair and yelling “Eat!”, while at work? Me? Well, scream on the inside, of course, all while holding back a tear, trying to keep calm (her and me) and hope she doesn’t start crying bloody murder so that the co-workers don’t call the police/Superman/social services/Jesus/Oprah.

So I brought my daughter into work for a few hours. I always like taking her to work – it’s like “Show and Tell” walking through the halls, while people poke out of the offices and cubes saying things like “oooohhh, how cute!”, “look at her cute clothes”, “so that’s what a kid looks like”….etc. She loves the attention and in a proud parent kind-of-way, so do I. She’s my little pride and joy. And besides people are much friendly to you when they know you have a kid (you know, like in the movies when a victim is about to get shot by some bad dude, and then he yells “WAIT”, whips out picts of his kid(s)…then the bad dudes boss tells the rookie bad dude to only shoot the victims legs – hmmm, that could be why I carry a picture of my daughter around….just in case.)

This visit was much different than her last a few months ago. She actually moves a lot faster at 18-months... like a Ninja. One minute she’s sitting, quietly eating her Elmo Crackers humming "E-I,E-I- Oh"; I’ll turn away to look at my computer, then look back only to discover she’s run out the fire exit with somebody’s car keys and hidden bottle of tequila.
I have to watch her like a hawk these days; unfortunately those parental “eyes in the back of my head” haven’t developed yet. And she talks a whole lot more now too - but only the kind of talk that only few (wife and I) can really understand. For instance, her “Ahh man!”, sounds a lot like “Ahh, sh*t” (don’t ask… but you should see the stares we get for that one.)

What was I writing about again? Yeah, so I was picking needles out of her hair while singing Elmo’s song (distraction) and saying things like “yeah, Elmo's is one crazy dog...bird...monkey..45-year-old sicko” (quietly and calmly though - didn’t want to make people come over) and then she stared at my face, looked concerned, then said “Dada?!”….Ahh SH*T”….(real loud!)

At least she uses it in context.

Playing Santa With The Kids AND How I Learned 'The Truth' About Santa!

Kittenpie @ Life of ‘Pie got me thinking about this - Do most of you parents “do” the Santa thing with your kids? If so, what are your traditions and how do you reveal ‘the truth’ about Santa. If you don’t “do” Santa - why? I want to know...

I never really thought about it until today (yeah, weird I know.) My daughter is only 17-months and the only Santa-thing we do is teaching her how to call the old guys in the malls “Santa” (or any old guy with a white beard.)
In my own life, I’m a little jaded - I found out ‘the truth’ when I was around 5 or 6. It was a horrible experience. I went out to the garage on that Christmas Eve to turn on the outside Christmas lights and saw two BMX bikes (from ‘the Santa list’.) I remember standing there in shock like, “did he come early?” and then I heard an angry voice behind me yelling, “what do you think you’re doing!!” Before I could think or talk I got chewed out and sent to my room. All confused I had no idea what to think –random stuff filled my head like “God, I hope these aren’t my parents..…maybe my “real” ones will come this year to take me away”. Actually no, I thought that all the time. I think it was just simple confusion.
Anyhow, my father comes in maybe about an hour later and starts yelling at me like I robbed the corner 7-11 and tells me not to tell my brother anything about “the incident” and then goes on to say “you’re not getting anything for Christmas!”, He then left, slamming the door (I remember my framed poster of Chewbacca falling off the wall that moment and breaking – Chewbacca didn’t deserve that.)
I sat on my bed confused, “why did Santa come early and why was I in trouble. Santa must be an angry teamster.”

Low and behold, I did end up getting the bike late the next day. My parents gave it to me after my brother was riding his new bike up and down our cul-de-sac street all day with the neighbor kids while I sat in the garage and observed. But my Dad warned me “don’t tell your brother about Santa not being real”. Then it hit me – “What, he’s not real?”

Oddly around that time, my younger brother told me that he knew Santa wasn’t real. All parents lied about it to make the kids behave (yes, younger brother.) Some kid, Billy Bologna (not his real name) told him at preschool or on the street. And then he went on and told me why didn’t I just go along with it - I’d get more gifts if I did.
That’s probably the smartest thing my little brother ever said his entire life. Because God knows most of the stuff he says these days isn’t.

O.K. so tell me people? Do you still do Santa? And do you have any stories about “the truth”…

Stunt-Man Toddlers Who Look Like They’ve Battled Jackie Chan And Chuck Norris At Gymboree

This weekend, I was feeling like a pretty bad parent. A few days ago my daughter was jumping up and down, laughing and yelling in some weird language, in her crib and in the process hit her bottom lip.
It’s a little weird walking in a store, just me and the kid, and then some strange old middle-aged woman gives you a comment like “Oh my God! What happened to her!” and then looks at you -the Dad, of course, with those ‘suspicious’ eyes (you know the ones that say “I Know What YOU Did Last Summer”). Well, to tell you the truth, I felt as if my shirt transformed into a pork-grind stained wife-beater, a beer can AND a 3-day beard magically appeared on my face (like in those old Bug Bunny cartoons) that instant.
I’m not one to make excuses, normally I would have cracked something amusing like “Aliens”, “Fight with Webster”, or whatever, but in this case I told the truth hoping she would go away (the little dog in her cart wearing underwear told me that she was a serious woman.) Even though, she still gave me weird looks as she walked away behind some aisle.

Things only got worse when yesterday she started running in the garage and tripped on a doormat. When we picked her up, there was blood. Man, there’s seriously nothing worse in the world than to see your own kids’ blood (heck, I don’t even like to see my own blood!) She was fine after a few minutes, but the lip grew like a mo-fo.

Now she looks like Angelina Jolie with her two big lips. Maybe she can start a modeling career (or maybe not, she might weight too much at 23 pounds.)

I know that at 17-months (as of today!) kids are prone to all kinds of falls, slips, tumbles, etc. but in today’s world where parents get locked up for anything that resembles anything 'suspicious' - I don’t know, that’s the part that freaks me out the most.

So as of today, I’m wrapping my daughter in bubble wrap (the kind that I like to pop out of boredom to annoy the wife) until her coordination gets a little better- I don’t know maybe by kindergarten. The nice thing about this solution is not only the ultra-safety factor (people ship Picasso’s in bubble-wrap) but if she were to fall – the sounds of “pops” will warn the wife and I of any impeding danger.

O.K. so am I being paranoid here, or should I start making getaway plans to Mexico? I can’t be the first parent ever to go through this…

‘Christmas-Creep’. Toddler’s Closing Down Cocktail Parties, And Angry Midgets

My message to the stores - It isn’t Christmas yet, so Put away the displays!
I keep complaining about this over and over again, but I really hate this ‘Christmas-Creep’ that’s going on at stores, malls, city centers, etc. We were out over the weekend and stores have completely forgotten that Thanksgiving exists. What would the pilgrims think!? I bet they would be very disappointed - possibly rioting at the farms, throwing Honeybaked Hams, and canned pumpkin guts through barn windows. People could die!
This thinking stores want to instill in people hasn’t gotten to me. I absolutely refuse to do anything Christmas until the day after Thanksgiving - decorating, buying gifts, junk, whatever. Because if I did buy into it, I just know stores will start putting up displays and piping Michael Bolton Christmas music after 4th of July. I don’t want my child to grow up in a world like that.

Just in case you were thinking of taking a Toddler to a Cocktail Party.
We went to a party over the weekend for one of our close friends’ birthday - A wine and appetizer type thing. We weren’t sure how our daughter was going to react since her bedtime was about the time it started. To our surprise she did really well. Before we left she lounged down on the ground, did some yoga moves, and pooped (with surround sound!) If you ever want to end something, there’s nothing like a toddler pooping in the middle of a party.

Blogging About People You Know Who Could Possibly Be Reading.
Question to all of you bloggers out there - Who knows about your blog?
Mine? The wife, a few close friends, my daughter (when she does something, I tell her I’m going to blog about it) and that’s about it on my end. If more people I know read this, then I would probably edit myself – and that would be tragic. I have a friend who saw my post about his addiction to facials, pedicures, and midget massages (In case you missed that one, you can read it here). Surprisingly, he wasn’t upset about me writing about his love of the facials, pedicures, or midget massages at places called "Peaches & Cream" though. Only the part about my use of ‘Angry Thai Midgets’. . Apparently they’re Vietnamese. Sorry Robert!