Conspicuous Consumption: 10 Things That Children Totally Waste

Sorry it’s been a while since I posted here. It’s been a hectic past little bit, but today I come to you with a little something I wrote for Babble.

One thing I’ve noticed as a parent — kids waste stuff. To an alarming degree, in fact. And they usually do it because whatever it is they’re wasting is “fun to use.” Like band aids.

I know what a blast. To find out what the other nine are, please click HERE.

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Some thoughts while we wait for the other shoe to drop

I meant to share this the day I posted it to Disney, but I kinda forgot. So, anyway, sorry for just now putting it up. Double sorry if you’re on my Facebook feed and have already seen this. Still, I wanted to share in case you’d not come across it because, to be frank, I really liked it. It’s a fictitious letter to my son which, on its surface, is encouraging him to take his first steps. But it’s really about so much more.

If you’d like to read, please click HERE.

The Secret to My Toothbrushing Coercion

And there were three primary ways I accomplished that: (a) under-promising but over-delivering, (b) illustrating the benefits to be gained from the use of my products and services and (c) finding win-win situations.

Oddly, it’s those same three principals I find myself using over and over as I try to sell my kids on things that are ultimately for their own good. And last night was a perfect example.

To read more of this sponsored post, please click HERE.

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7 Things You Should NOT Discuss With Parents of Triplets


You know what I wonder? Whether anyone has every used the phrase “ass-wiping Octopi” before.

Because I used it in this piece I wrote yesterday. And I gotta tell you — it felt really, really good. Because this was a rant post. Only, I’m not mad at anyone. I was just in the throes of this big ol’ writer’s block and busted out of it with a bit of an attitude. So my apologies in advance.

If you’d like to read up on the 7 things you really shouldn’t mention to parents of triplets, click HERE to read over at Babble. (Just make sure you’ve got a big ol’ grain of salt with you.)

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8 Tips for Making Great Home Movies

I love making videos. Some of my favorites are the ones I do with Caroline — like this quirky little number that we called Valentine’s Day: According to the Osbornes. In it, I may or may not have criticized her driving. It’s so hard for me to recall petty little details such as that.

Anyway, two big developments on the video front — first, starting soon, I’ll be doing them for hire and embedding them on another site. These efforts will also be uploaded to a YouTube channel, but not my own — instead, one belonging to a brand name we all know and love. But second, and equally as exciting — I get to do them with Caroline which means these videos will showcase that feisty, banter thing we do. You know, kinda like Helen Hunt and Paul Reiser albeit with a southern twist.

More on that soon, but for now, I wanted point you to a post I just wrote for Babble that you might find useful if you’re (a) interested in making home movies or (b) interested in making even better home movies than you’re already making. If that sounds like you, click on THIS LINK to read 8 Tips for Making Great Home Movies.

I’m a Soccer Dad

Whereas up to now, I’ve been a soccer step dad. Not a huge difference, mainly semantics. Still, the fact remains, the triplets entered the world of competitive sports over the weekend (their team name is Mr. Ball) and I reflected a bit upon it this past Friday over at Babble.

To check it out, click HERE.

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I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t hate that place

It’s an uneasiness that shares dread’s border with which I break your threshold, but an invitation has left me no choice. Not yours, of course, as darkening your doorways requires no such thing.

Regardless of procuring cause, whenever my path crosses any of your many, it’s a lamentable occasion, indeed, or so I’m reminded the moment I feel your cool breath and begin to negotiate your well trodden, marble walkways.

You’re like a spider, what with your many legs, each capped by its appropriated anchor. I’m uncertain of which, exactly, I find myself traversing, the simple path turned confusing by the eerie sameness of the vertigo-inducing glass facades that line either side of this undesirable and heavily trafficked highway.

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Awkward Moments with the New Neighbor: Brought to You by Briggs

A handful of folks have DMed me on Twitter and Facebook over the past three weeks or so asking me for Briggs updates. And I’ve responded with phrases like Oh, he’s great and It’s so nice to have him back. But the truth is this—he wasn’t back, y’all. Not even close.

Nine full weeks after his surgery, Briggs was still struggling each and every time he got up from his bed—still walking with a discernible limp. And worst of all, he’d lost that youthful, mischievous nature we’d grown to accept love about him.

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Back to School With Triplets: Easy as 1, 2, 3, Right?

You think he and the other two triplets will make a splash at school?

For years, my wife and I assumed that our lives would become a bit easier once our triplets finally started school. What we didn’t realize, however, was just how complicated of a decision-making process awaited us.

First, there’s the question of which school we should send them to. Had there been just one child, there’d likely be no debate. We’d probably send “that child” to the same school our rising fifth grader goes to – a private school she’s attended since kindergarten.

But I’ve always had an internal struggle with the concept of forking over big bucks for a private-school education that begins in kindergarten as opposed to one that begins in, say, the fifth grade. You multiply the cost of that kindergarten year by three, and that internal struggle just turned into an internal fist fight.

Read the rest at BabbleVoices by clicking HERE.

Photo credit — Beth Lankler

Younger Siblings and the Unfortunate Byproduct of Playing Up

when little kids find themselves in sandboxes meant for their older siblings.

A Phrase is Coined

Shortly after I married Caroline, she introduced me to the concept of “playing up.” Only she didn’t call it “playing up” because, unlike me, she’s not prone to coining phrases for varied and random phenomenon. Regardless, she was talking about a precocious little boy, one who had the reputation of dropping age-inappropriate pop culture references. Along with the occasional F-bomb. I wondered aloud how such a young kid could already be swimming in the profane waters of sexual innuendo, to which Caroline replied:

To read more, click over to BabbleVoices by clicking HERE.

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