I have resorted to cheating to figure out the best ending of kiddo’s current “choose your own path” comic. Cheating has helped me determine what the best ending is, but not yet how to get there, so more work to do.

I don’t know what (if anything) to make of this, but the roller rink appears to be a dependable place for experiencing parental pride.

I first met my spouse in college, where she was doing biology while I was doing French, so even though I’m now a tenured professor in a technology-focused major, I still think of her as the “STEM parent” for the purposes of helping with kiddo’s homework.

We are big fans of libraries in our family. In fact, live near the border between two counties, and we split our library visits between the Lexington Public Library (where we are residents) and the Jessamine County Public Library (where we are not). Luckily, Kentucky library systems tend to be fairly liberal in handing out library cards, so this isn’t usually a hassle (this was not the case in Central Michigan, but that’s a story for another time).

The spookiest things in our house right now aren’t the Halloween decorations, they’re the ultra high visibility vests we keep by our bikes and startle me with an eerie glow every time I open the door into the dark garage.

“Aw man, I’m not as good as catching flying socks as I am at catching a frisbee.”

Nothing like taking a break from trying to convince kiddo to help with weekend chores to try to convince kiddo to help with farm chores in our shared Stardew Valley game.

A family lunchtime discussion about centaurs has devolved into wondering what the rules of genetic inheritance are in Greek and Norse myths—and some speculation as to whether I was cursed by Athena long ago and am only masquerading as human.

We’re riding out hurricane effects here in Kentucky by making sure everyone in the family has pajamas on by 3:15.

It is hard to have honest conversations about the difficulty of parenting: Even in reading this post, I tensed up, because these are things you aren’t supposed to say. I’m glad someone was vulnerable enough to write this.

I made a BASIC joke for kiddo’s lunchbox note today. Turns out I forgot to actually put it in her lunch, but once we both got home, I was pleased to see that she puzzled out the syntax on her own.

Real uptick in emphasis on grades, homework, and tests in kiddo’s school this year, and I’m torn between a paternal impulse to get really invested in all of that and my professional disdain for how invested we all get in all of that.

I. With Siblings in a Sibling-Only Chat Separate from the One with Parents and Partners We process the news together (I’m not the one to start the conversation but glad for the sibling who did). It’s not a deep processing, but I’m not sure we would have done this much even a few years ago. We plan to send flowers to the widow, decide who’s going to write the note, and settle up over Venmo.

Being a parent sometimes means developing strong opinions about things you knew nothing about before your kids were born—like what the best optional-second-player mechanics are for platformer games.

“That kid spends too much time listening to audiobooks and podcasts while already doing other things,” I think to myself as I turn back to the dishes while putting my earbuds in.

After a few days of griping that the library has once again misplaced one of the books we turned in, I have indeed found the book in kiddo’s room.

Spouse bought some “chai spice” nut butter last weekend, and—tragedy of tragedies—I’m the only one in the family who likes it. It is a bit more peppery than I usually like chai stuff, but my increased toast consumption wouldn’t indicate as much.

Last Christmas, we got kiddo one of those Wreck this Journal books, which is why there was a block of ice with “figure out a way to freeze this page” peering out from it that was melting in the sink while I was listening to French internet radio and making a batch of muesli this afternoon.

Prominent among my assorted shortcomings as a spouse and parent is a near-total ineptitude in the realm of home maintenance and repair (as evidenced by my previous posts on the subject). So, a few years ago, when our house’s carbon monoxide detector started its dystopian shrieking in the middle of the night to let us know that its battery was low, I blearily woke up, tore it out of the wall, disassembled it until it stopped sounding like something out of 1984, and decided to worry about it in the morning.

Kiddo has been really into Greek mythology lately, and this has culminated in presenting me with “twelve trials” à la Heracles—but that basically get me to clean her room.

“Well, I GUESS I’d better stop talking about the FURIES [of Greek myth] so my dad can go off and have a good time at WORK!” I mean, I’m just trying to get us out the door to school on time, but I still feel like I’ve been owned.

After many years of living rent-free in my head, the Daniel Tiger “go potty” song has retreated beyond the limits of my perfect, immediate recollection. I am experiencing a complicated mix of relief and nostalgic sadness.

This afternoon has been a reminder that we are a family that a) plays library for fun and b) gets distracted from playing library by the books that we’re supposed to be checking out to stuffies.

Kiddo’s first day of school, and despite getting plenty of sleep, I’m just exhausted from getting up earlier than I have been. Making it through with the help of a favorite D&D actual play podcast, but this still doesn’t bode well for next few months.

My spouse has been trying to get me to read this book for ages. I’ve never been resistant to the idea, but I just never got around to it! Finally, I made some time this week to try it, and I see why she was so keen on it. The sense of humor reminds me of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, but whereas H2G2 is goofy to be goofy, this has a really cozy story and important message at the heart of it.

Germany’s submission to Eurovision 2023 was a goth metal song called “Blood and Glitter.” It’s a fun song, but I wish this toy bin I’m washing out in the sink were less reminiscent of that title.

It’s that time of year (again) for signing the acceptable use policy for kiddo’s school, and I’m again grumpy about a lot of the details in here. Some of these details are me being a nitpicky academic, like the use of the word “technology” to refer to digital technologies alone. Others strike me as more serious, though. Let’s take a look at this paragraph, listed under a “Roles and Responsibilities of Parents/Guardians” header:

There’s lots to like about this movie: a good message, some good jokes, and some animation gags that I really liked. It’s hard to live up to the original film, though, and this just didn’t feel as tight. Parts of the plot felt rushed, the internal logic of the first film wasn’t as present, and it felt repetitive with some of the plot beats. I’m glad I saw it, but I think the first captures most of the magic that’s here—and more besides.

Kiddo has a stuffy which is a garden-style gnome but with a mermaid tail instead of a pointed hat. This is super cute but has caused long-running family arguments about which end is “up” for the creature.

In further evidence that libraries are magical places: Two days in a row, we’ve gone to summer events at different branches across town and, without prior coordination, run into kiddos’ friends.

Turns out that explaining to kiddo how to pull off a victory against long odds in the Pokémon TCG scratches the same strategic itch as doing it myself, so she got to beat me, and I still had a satisfying game.

Saturday morning spouse conversations: “What if I dressed up as such-and-such Eurovision act for Thanksgiving?” “I know you meant Halloween, but I like the idea of Thanksgiving better.”

The most expensive part of this round of strep throat is going to be the 40% of summer camp tuition that corresponds to the days kiddo won’t be attending.

Today in first day of summer vacation adventures: Finishing this round of braces! Cancelling library plans because we drove over a nail? Figuring out safest way to bike home after we drop off car at nearest tire place! Maybe some Minecraft once we get back?

Working on kiddo’s spice tolerance: “My mouth is like an oven, but in a calming way.”

Dear “Dad of the Year” jury, I submit to accompany my application these words that I pronounced after my kid asked to play in the backyard after having a whole park day at school: “Haven’t you played outside enough today? Let’s stay inside and play Switch instead.”