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My son has discovered Power Rangers, has decided he's the black ranger, and I've never been more proud. I don't know a lot about Power Rangers, as it came along past the time I would have enjoyed it, but now everything he owns has been repurposed as some implement or another from that universe.

Been there. I was way to old to be there, but I was there. Power Rangers used to come on after Xmen. You could tell the kids that watched power rangers. Most came powering out of their houses at 10:30 wielding adamantium claws. Other's would be doing karate.

"There's something wrong about this pudding."

"It's mayonnaise."

"Right then." (continues eating)

More or less. I was all "Miracle Whip? Gross. Now mayo on the other hand...".

We've educated our 9 and 6 year old about the microwave and what is NOT meant to microwave and have also kept a electric kettle (after teaching them to not fill the kettle while plugged) within their reach for the oatmeals and ramens. We also keep the toaster within their reach. And we allow them to use them at will. The 6 year old has learned to delegate by means of improvised ignorance.

In other words, he gets the 9 yo to do the "cooking" by claiming he doesn't remember the rules.

We are okay with this arrangement because we have always included them in daily meal preparations and are certain they understand the dangers involved with cooking and thus are confident they will not push their boundaries (by using the stove or oven).

However, this does not stop me from worrying that one day I'll find the microwave smoked because someone forgot a spoon or fork.

My kids cook with me. I make them. They offer, but I also make them.

I have a Gold Rimmed Left Handed Mug. Gold is metal. My kids now know that you can't microwave metal.

This morning at 6:30 am I got a 15 minute dissertation on the differences between Minecraft and 5 Nights at Freddie's as I drank my morning coffee.

My kid knows his stuff, but still have no idea what he was talking about!

Worse is when they start to learn about mods and expect you to have a damned clue how that stuff is supposed to work.

I play Minecraft and know more than my kids. That being said, I build square houses and wage wars against the zombies and spiders.

We've been playing a lot of COD 2 Black Ops Zombie mode.

My Daughters record so far is 100. 100 freaking kills. She does better then most of the teenagers I shame.

In fairness to them, I grew up playing FPS games. Wolfenstein opened my eyes. Doom defined my younger life, and Quake ruined my chances of getting any in my teenage years.

Why is Daddy so good? Daddy has some frustrations to work out.
 
We decided right off the bat to treat our first like it was our second and skip all the worrying and fussing like most current helicopter parents.

Our oldest will be 2 the end of the month and I can't remember when he started getting samples of beer, but he was less than a year. Both the wife and I are on the same page when it comes to teaching him things and would rather show him than let him figure it out from someone else, even if it isn't "appropriate" in some peoples eyes.

He had Knob Creek during teething and would stop crying even before my finger hit his mouth after a while....

We have a fenced in yard but he knows not to go near the road when we are outside of the fence. I ran him over with his toy 4 wheeler one day until he understood what run'd over meant and now has a respect for passing cars and will yell at the neighbors kid "RUN'D OVER" when he gets too close to the road if thy're playing in the front yard.

We've got a 3 month old to refine our skills on now.
 
I often burst into their rooms put on a karate demonstration and leave without ever saying a word. I suggest you all do the same.

This will be added to my repertoire.

I agree all kids need a good amount of "When I was a kid..." stories.

Isn't that our jobs as dads? Too do the crazy/silly stuff that moms say no to?:)

I remember doing all kinds of fun/crazy/unsafe things with my dad and i turned out ok. Well unless you ask my wife. :tank:
 
We decided right off the bat to treat our first like it was our second and skip all the worrying and fussing like most current helicopter parents.

Our oldest will be 2 the end of the month and I can't remember when he started getting samples of beer, but he was less than a year. Both the wife and I are on the same page when it comes to teaching him things and would rather show him than let him figure it out from someone else, even if it isn't "appropriate" in some peoples eyes.

He had Knob Creek during teething and would stop crying even before my finger hit his mouth after a while....

We have a fenced in yard but he knows not to go near the road when we are outside of the fence. I ran him over with his toy 4 wheeler one day until he understood what run'd over meant and now has a respect for passing cars and will yell at the neighbors kid "RUN'D OVER" when he gets too close to the road if thy're playing in the front yard.

We've got a 3 month old to refine our skills on now.

I'm a copter parent. Most parents come down on me for it. It's odd though, I don't care what they do, they are going to get hurt, and I don't stop that. I just want to be a part of their lives and worldly explorations. I like to explain things, but more than that I like to understand the world from their perspective.

I've been trying to back off but it's hard.

Good for you on the not worrying part. I worry, just not over stuff I can't control.

This will be added to my repertoire.

I agree all kids need a good amount of "When I was a kid..." stories.

Isn't that our jobs as dads? Too do the crazy/silly stuff that moms say no to?:)

I remember doing all kinds of fun/crazy/unsafe things with my dad and i turned out ok. Well unless you ask my wife. :tank:

Awesome!

And yup on the wife part. My wife loves the goofy stuff as long as we're not in public, which if we are it's instantly "Stop acting like your Dad.".
 
I play Minecraft and know more than my kids. That being said, I build square houses and wage wars against the zombies and spiders.

We've been playing a lot of COD 2 Black Ops Zombie mode.

My Daughters record so far is 100. 100 freaking kills. She does better then most of the teenagers I shame.

In fairness to them, I grew up playing FPS games. Wolfenstein opened my eyes. Doom defined my younger life, and Quake ruined my chances of getting any in my teenage years.

Why is Daddy so good? Daddy has some frustrations to work out.

My son started playing Clash of Clans.
I soon started helping him. I then joined a clan with my old COD Clan.
Now I pretty much run Clash of Clans.
This morning I informed my son that we had a clan war when I got home and to not do any fighting ( he likes to attack clans he is grossly over matched by).
So anyway I told him to hold off on an attack and he responded with "you know Clash of Clans used to be my game!"
 
We let our 2.5 year old eat the puffs our 9 month old drops from her high chair . He aptly named it "floor candy".
 
We let our 2.5 year old eat the puffs our 9 month old drops from her high chair . He aptly named it "floor candy".

That's just environmentally friendly recycling. My dog is currently designated to doing that duty. He now loves having babies around.


My wife just (7/1!) gave birth to our second. A girl!



Damn, that's floccin scary. Our boy is 21 months, and I thought I was getting a pretty good handle on what I should do as a parent. Not anymore. Not at all.
One thing that gives me solace is that she has an older brother.


I can't wait to see what I'm going to do to screw this up. Thankfully there's this thread to document my failings! :mug:
 
That's just environmentally friendly recycling. My dog is currently designated to doing that duty. He now loves having babies around.


My wife just (7/1!) gave birth to our second. A girl!



Damn, that's floccin scary. Our boy is 21 months, and I thought I was getting a pretty good handle on what I should do as a parent. Not anymore. Not at all.
One thing that gives me solace is that she has an older brother.


I can't wait to see what I'm going to do to screw this up. Thankfully there's this thread to document my failings! :mug:
My boss and his wife went through hell to get their two boys - MAJOR fertility treatments, surgeries to correct 'issues' with the wife's plumbing, I have no idea how many miscarriages. They were told that with as much difficulty as they had with assistance, they'd never get pregnant "naturally", so after their second son was born, they had talked about taking preventative measures, but never did.

I've known for a couple weeks now, but they just formally announced they're expecting #3. His exact words were "Apparently I sweet-talked her one time I shouldn't have". They're pretty excited, hoping for a girl this time.... but his comment was, "I was fine when we could play man defense. We're going to have to go to zone now. We're in trouble."
 
I'm a copter parent. Most parents come down on me for it. It's odd though, I don't care what they do, they are going to get hurt, and I don't stop that. I just want to be a part of their lives and worldly explorations. I like to explain things, but more than that I like to understand the world from their perspective.

I've been trying to back off but it's hard.

Good for you on the not worrying part. I worry, just not over stuff I can't control.



Awesome!

And yup on the wife part. My wife loves the goofy stuff as long as we're not in public, which if we are it's instantly "Stop acting like your Dad.".


Compared to my father-in-law, I'm a total copter dad. But you said it right there, I'm not so worried about her getting hurt (to an extent), but I like to try and figure out what she sees and what she's trying to tell me and why. I like to be right there to explain things or just goof off with her.

I like being there and trying not to miss a bunch of stuff that happens during the short time we get to be together at night and on the weekends.

I figure between naps and sleeping at night and being at the grandparent's or what have you, we get to hang out for something like 50 hours a week at most.
 
Compared to my father-in-law, I'm a total copter dad. But you said it right there, I'm not so worried about her getting hurt (to an extent), but I like to try and figure out what she sees and what she's trying to tell me and why. I like to be right there to explain things or just goof off with her.

I like being there and trying not to miss a bunch of stuff that happens during the short time we get to be together at night and on the weekends.

I figure between naps and sleeping at night and being at the grandparent's or what have you, we get to hang out for something like 50 hours a week at most.

You're doing it right. Even if I'm not actively playing or interacting with him, I catch myself just listening and observing. The dude plays better than any kid I've ever seen.
 
Re. Fertility: my grandfather in law told my father-in-law: "Son, I took the pledge against alcohol in Ireland when I was a wee lad. Your mother is pregnant and there's another thing I'm swearing off right now".

My F-I-L never heard any follow-up on the pledge, but it was the last of his 5 siblings, 2 years younger than my wife.
 
Back when my son was just starting to formulate nearly coherent sentences we were standing in line to check out at the grocery store. Well, I was standing, he was sitting the buggy. He quietly whispers to me, "Dad". I lean down so he can whisper in my ear. Soon as I lean down, I get a whiff, thought he messed himself or something. He then asks, "Dad, did you fart?". Giggling at this point, I told him no. He lets this ride for about 15 seconds while looking around. Then points to the rather large lady in front of us and VERY loudly says, "DAD! SHE FARTED!"

I dont know who turned more red in the face, me or her.
 
Back when my son was just starting to formulate nearly coherent sentences we were standing in line to check out at the grocery store. Well, I was standing, he was sitting the buggy. He quietly whispers to me, "Dad". I lean down so he can whisper in my ear. Soon as I lean down, I get a whiff, thought he messed himself or something. He then asks, "Dad, did you fart?". Giggling at this point, I told him no. He lets this ride for about 15 seconds while looking around. Then points to the rather large lady in front of us and VERY loudly says, "DAD! SHE FARTED!"

I dont know who turned more red in the face, me or her.

I think I'd have said (loudly enough for her to hear), "No son, she cropdusted us. There's a big difference."
 
Compared to my father-in-law, I'm a total copter dad. But you said it right there, I'm not so worried about her getting hurt (to an extent), but I like to try and figure out what she sees and what she's trying to tell me and why. I like to be right there to explain things or just goof off with her.

I like being there and trying not to miss a bunch of stuff that happens during the short time we get to be together at night and on the weekends.

I figure between naps and sleeping at night and being at the grandparent's or what have you, we get to hang out for something like 50 hours a week at most.

Monday - Friday they get about 10 hours. All day everyday on the weekends. So I guess like 30 hours a week goes to my kids. It doesn't feel like enough.
 
Ok, I've got one. A couple months ago my nine year old son was mowing the yard. He was having trouble next to the road on a little inclined wonky spot. He turned off the ( push) mower so I went over to help him out. Right as I yank the pull start he walks behind me and catches an elbow to the middle of the forehead at full stroke. I hit him hard. Hit him like a man.

He didn't fall down. He didn't cry. He grabbed his head and started apologizing for walking behind me while I'm grabbing him and apologizing, making sure he's ok. He fuqin tough.

I never felt like such a POS in my life. He didn't cry so I didn't cry in front of him but I balled like a baby later. I love that boy so much.
 
Ok, I've got one. A couple months ago my nine year old son was mowing the yard. He was having trouble next to the road on a little inclined wonky spot. He turned off the ( push) mower so I went over to help him out. Right as I yank the pull start he walks behind me and catches an elbow to the middle of the forehead at full stroke. I hit him hard. Hit him like a man.

He didn't fall down. He didn't cry. He grabbed his head and started apologizing for walking behind me while I'm grabbing him and apologizing, making sure he's ok. He fuqin tough.

I never felt like such a POS in my life. He didn't cry so I didn't cry in front of him but I balled like a baby later. I love that boy so much.

I found out my oldest could reach the kitchen counter the hard way. She snagged the handle of my pocket knife and stabbed herself in the eye. She cried, I cried, my wife cried. An ER visit and a few days in an eyepatch later, she brought a different pocket knife to me, closed, and told me very pointedly that it belonged in a drawer.
 
Monday - Friday they get about 10 hours. All day everyday on the weekends. So I guess like 30 hours a week goes to my kids. It doesn't feel like enough.

You've got that right. I often have to remind myself (usually around minute 25 of a major screaming ****storm) that I only get a small amount of time to spend with her and that I shouldn't be wishing that she was at daycare or anywhere else, and not in my face trying to give me full blown tinnitus.

Ok, I've got one. A couple months ago my nine year old son was mowing the yard. He was having trouble next to the road on a little inclined wonky spot. He turned off the ( push) mower so I went over to help him out. Right as I yank the pull start he walks behind me and catches an elbow to the middle of the forehead at full stroke. I hit him hard. Hit him like a man.

He didn't fall down. He didn't cry. He grabbed his head and started apologizing for walking behind me while I'm grabbing him and apologizing, making sure he's ok. He fuqin tough.

I never felt like such a POS in my life. He didn't cry so I didn't cry in front of him but I balled like a baby later. I love that boy so much.

I'm sorry, but I Lol'd. Stuff like that is bound to happen, but I know where you're coming from. I'd have felt the same way.
 
Here's a truncated version of that story, for those of you who tl;dr.

Lol. I read that thinking" it's not like Austin to say something like that" and thinking of a smart ass reply. I read it twice before I realized.

And thanks, now DHS is monitoring my activities.
 
I found out my oldest could reach the kitchen counter the hard way. She snagged the handle of my pocket knife and stabbed herself in the eye. She cried, I cried, my wife cried. An ER visit and a few days in an eyepatch later, she brought a different pocket knife to me, closed, and told me very pointedly that it belonged in a drawer.

Dayum
 

Part II. Middle daughter is about 4 moths old, happily playing in our living room floor. I was in the back room when the doorbell rings, so me & my size 11 Doc Martens come clodding through the living room to get the door. Not used to having little ones underfoot again, I kicked her squarely in the middle of the forehead. That left a mark.
 
Part II. Middle daughter is about 4 moths old, happily playing in our living room floor. I was in the back room when the doorbell rings, so me & my size 11 Doc Martens come clodding through the living room to get the door. Not used to having little ones underfoot again, I kicked her squarely in the middle of the forehead. That left a mark.

I went sledding with my dad when I was 6... he sat behind me and I was sitting in between his legs.

We're cruising along and hit this huge bump and I flew forward, caught a steel-toe to the eye. Big ol' shiner.

I went to kindergarten the next day and the teacher asked me what happened, to which I replied "My dad kicked me in the face."

They got a call from the school shortly after. Details are important, is what I'm getting at.
 
Ok, I've got one. A couple months ago my nine year old son was mowing the yard. He was having trouble next to the road on a little inclined wonky spot. He turned off the ( push) mower so I went over to help him out. Right as I yank the pull start he walks behind me and catches an elbow to the middle of the forehead at full stroke. I hit him hard. Hit him like a man.

He didn't fall down. He didn't cry. He grabbed his head and started apologizing for walking behind me while I'm grabbing him and apologizing, making sure he's ok. He fuqin tough.

I never felt like such a POS in my life. He didn't cry so I didn't cry in front of him but I balled like a baby later. I love that boy so much.

I feel you there. When he gets hurt when we're playing I have a sense of "This is his first memory. He's never going to love me.".

We were watching fireworks Saturday night. I was laying down with my head in my wife's lap. He walked over to me out of nowhere and hugged me.

Best day ever. Fireworks weren't bad either.


Lol. I read that thinking" it's not like Austin to say something like that" and thinking of a smart ass reply. I read it twice before I realized.

And thanks, now DHS is monitoring my activities.

I did too. Really.

I went sledding with my dad when I was 6... he sat behind me and I was sitting in between his legs.

We're cruising along and hit this huge bump and I flew forward, caught a steel-toe to the eye. Big ol' shiner.

I went to kindergarten the next day and the teacher asked me what happened, to which I replied "My dad kicked me in the face."

They got a call from the school shortly after. Details are important, is what I'm getting at.

You guys spent time with your dads? I'm making up for my crap childhood. Now I feel like I'm doing the average. Time to step my game up.

TL;DR: You're an awful human being.

Why do I keep saying these things?
 
Our bed is about thigh level in height. I knew better, but I put SessionableGoodness in the middle, turned around to get something from the other room, and heard the thud and crying you would expect. Poor buzzard.
 
Against my better judgement, one more from when the same boy was about two. We had just moved into this rent house that had a five step stair off the back porch with no hand rail. I was in the back yard taking some meat off the smoker. The back door was supposed to be shut. I'm sure you see where this is going.

I turned around with a platter full of pork roast and watched powerlessly, almost in slow motion as my son fell headfirst off the top step. He landed on his face in the dirt then full on scorpioned. I thought his neck was broken. It had to be. I dropped the platter of meat and scooped him up. He was fine. Scratched his face and knocked the wind out of him.

We took him to the doctor anyway. I'll never forget that.

Edit. And I installed a hand rail the next day.
 
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