School district has explicitly said it’s not going to make a decision about tomorrow until between 2:30am and 5:00am, so we have to get everything ready tonight knowing full well that it might prove to be vain by the time we get up. Yayyyyy.

For what it’s worth, Calvin and Hobbes reruns also get me this morning.

Well, at least some of today’s comic strip characters also have a “non-traditional instruction” day.

I don’t think anything beats The Wrong Trousers in the Wallace and Gromit canon, but this could have been much worse as a follow-up to that classic. It’s silly (mostly in good ways), subtly but wonderfully British, and kept kiddo laughing. It’s the best Wallace and Gromit I’ve seen for a while, even if it isn’t as good as the classic stuff.

I know that all kids parrot what they hear their parents say to a certain extent, but kiddo has gotten very pro-public transport lately, and it makes me very happy.

We have some neat family holiday plans this year, so naturally the part of my brain that likes to imagine how things could go wrong is working overtime right now.

Sun. afternoon, after chatting with other parents at birthday party: “Wow, spending time with fellow adults is great.”

Sun. evening, after Zoom siblings’ game night: “Why don’t I do this more often?”

Mon. morning, barely functional from not enough sleep: “Oh, right.”

Kiddo did lots of fuse bead art with cousins over Thanksgiving. When I complained that the train in the instruction manual was out of the 19th century and that kids’ stuff never acknowledges awesome modern trains, she improvised this high speed beauty for me.

Duolingo is one of those apps I really loved once but now can’t see as anything but creepy adware. It’s hard to complain when it’s teaching kiddo more French than I ever managed to, but I still worry I’ve sold her soul to that little green owl.

Kiddo is expressing her distaste for her “read aloud” homework by putting a lot of obviously false enthusiasm into her performance.

Kiddo’s describing defeated Pokémon as “dying” is really forcing me to confront the premise of the series.

Love that our family makes a point to stop at the Kentucky Artisan Center rest stop instead of the Buc-ee’s just up the road. Further love that my favorite locally-made tea company can always be found there.

Freeing our family from Audible by starting a libro.fm account is a normal thing for a dad to be proud of, right? (Don’t tell me if the answer is no.)

We picked up some of the Exploding Kittens-brand goofy party games for our upcoming big family Thanksgiving, and my inner board game snob is kind of offended at how actually fun they seem.

Nancy is giving me the courage to finally confess that I do not really like the sweet-potatoes-slathered-in-marshmallows dish.

Kiddo, covering up one of the tines on a fork: “Look, now it’s a threek!”

Kiddo, putting away laundry: “My sweater! Come feel its soft wrath!”—

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.