We hit the road for our first Cub Scout camping trip, to Westgate River Ranch, an outdoor oasis in the middle of anonymous, sprawling scrubland — a wonderland of vast fields, bulls standing sternly at fences daring you to come just a little closer, a rodeo arena with its dazzling orange dirt, a saloon, all on the wide and wild Kissimmee River. Other than a lesson on the joys of being immersed in the outdoors while with a couple hundred outstanding people, here’s what we learned: Continue reading “Riding bulls and inhaling bugs: 10 Lessons from Cub Scout ranch-camping”
I let my 6-year-old shoot an air rifle for the first time on Sunday. Later that day, the worst mass shooting in modern U.S. history took place.
Talk about giving a liberal dude some doubts. Continue reading “Even after the Vegas carnage, I’m glad I let my kid shoot”
I’ve been thinking about parent overreach after I stumbled across a not-all-that-recent essay in The Times warning parents against the rabid pursuit of “passion” for their kids, that laser focus and fierce discipline that some parents think is needed to produce tennis prodigies and Ivy League admissions and recital hall social-media brags. Continue reading “Dad’s dangerous baseball wish”
Two days ago I turned 43. An age with no consequence whatsoever, other than offering an opportunity to obsess over one’s age. Which, come to think of it, will be the main function of all the rest of my birthdays for the rest of my life.
Two weeks ago, Quinn and Sawyer, who have birthdays 18 days apart, got a butterfly kit as a gift from their aunt: two cups with five caterpillars each, with tan muck at the bottom that they eat. Continue reading “The Brief Life of Butterfly Number 2”
Months before he made his first appearance the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the air was already crackling with anticipation of the Elf on a Shelf — that cute, mischievous figure clad in red who sits in absolute stillness in our house (on a shelf or poking his head out of a toy bin, or in the corner of the kitchen counter) until reappearing the next morning in another spot, where his paralysis has again taken hold. Continue reading “The elf’s spell”
A smell hung in the air. I looked at Sawyer. Continue reading “Adventures in potty-training”
Given that my wife and I wake up most days at 6 am, throw our 5-year-old and 2-year-old’s lunches together, feed them breakfast, get them dressed, get them out the door to pre-class violin practice then kindergarten and pre-school, work, pick them up, feed them pre-dinner snacks, cook dinner, feed them dinner, feed them post-dinner snacks, referee their fights, praise them for their good deeds, corral them for baths, put them to bed, then repeat this, nearly every day, it might seem odd to ask:
Is having kids primarily a selfish act? Continue reading “The selfless-parent myth”
I turned on the heat and smeared some olive oil on the pan, added a patty of chicken sausage, cooked a scrambled egg, added cheese and gave it all to Sawyer. Ten seconds passed.
‘I done.’ Continue reading “Tom’s Diner”