How Your Kids See You

We have a Disney version of the classic memory card game. I have played it with the two younger girls on occasion. However, sometimes the three-year-old likes to play with the cards face up. Then I’ll call out a character for her or her sister to find the matching pair for. Then, she’ll tell me which character to find. Kind of takes the challenge out of the game, but it’s good, quality time with my youngsters, and I love it.

However, the other day I was a little concerned with the characters Daddy was asked to find.





Why, pray tell, does my three-year-old associate the words, “Dumbo, Goofy, Dopey, and Pooh” with her father.

Hmmm, I’ll have to keep my eye on this one.

That’s My Boy

After four daughters we finally had a son. Some dumb jokes from friends involve whether or not I’m sure he’s my kid, because I apparently can’t father boys. But I know this is my kid.

After all, my wife’s fidelity is unquestioned. Heck, as a homeschooling mom she doesn’t have the time to see anyone else.

My son and I were born with about the same weight and length.

He has blue eyes, I have blue eyes.

He’s giving up his naps at a very early age, I gave up my naps at a very early age.

He drools a lot, I drool a lot.

He burps a lot, I burp a lot.

He farts a lot, I fart a lot.

He loves it when his mommy takes his clothes off, I love it when his mommy takes my clothes off.

Yup, that’s my boy!

Daughters and Sons

My wife and I have four daughters. We are also expecting our fifth child. No, I didn’t entitle this post Daughters and Sons because we have a boy on the way…we won’t know until the little sprout of my loins is born. We’re old-fashioned that way; we never find out the sex of our babies until they’re born.

But people keep saying something to the effect of, “So, are you hoping for a boy this time?” My answer is always no, I’m just praying for a healthy baby. Boy or girl, son or daughter doesn’t matter. I’m thrilled to be a daddy again.

Yet there are differences in sons and daughters. After having our third daughter I pretty much gave up on the prospect of having a son to carry on the family line. She, unlike her sisters, has been taught all those great things a father should teach his son. Like armpit farts! And silly songs about gas, roadkill, you name it.

We had a recent visit from their grandparents (my in-laws) and some of their cousins. We were out eating at Ruby Tuesday when she said excitedly, “Daddy, pull my finger!”

As a responsible father…I did! Together we did our John Daly impression – I gripped it, she ripped it! Yup, that’s my girl. I’m so proud.