I have made so many sneering comparisons between sports fandom and blind nationalism as someone who doesn’t really care about sports, but now that I’ve got a team (my kid’s) to be super invested in… yeah, I actually feel the comparison more, just with more self awareness.

“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.

Several years ago, while I was sharing a Bible story with my daughter, she interjected with an urgent thought: “I hope that Jesus knows that I have a pig.”

As I wrote in my journal at that time:

She’s been big on showing people her stuffed piggy recently: the movers, the plumber, anyone we’re Facetiming with, it doesn’t matter. So, it makes sense that if she got the chance to see Jesus, she’d want to show Him her pig, too.

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.

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.

Il y a deux ans, j’ai avoué que malgré mon amour pour la musique francophone, il faut parfois beaucoup de temps avant que pouvoir vraiment suivre les paroles. Ce n’est pas forcément une question de compétence en français—un peu, quand-même, mais j’ai souvent le même problème en anglais, où j’écoute une chanson sans vraiment la comprendre.

Tout ça pour dire que malgré avoir entendu la chanson « Secret » de Louane plusieurs fois grâce à la radio digitale DKL, ce n’est que ce matin que j’ai vraiment saisi le sens de la chanson. Étant moi-même papa d’une fille, les paroles m’ont vraiment bouleversé, et je suis sûr que je vais y penser bien souvent. C’est une belle chanson, et c’est dommage que je n’ai pas reconnu sa beauté avant, mais j’imagine que je n’arriverai plus à entendre cette chanson sans larmes aux yeux.

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.

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.

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.

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:

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.

Let’s be honest: I’d much rather be at my department’s writing retreat today (with free lunch, to boot!) and that my kid be going to (definitely not free) summer camp. All that said, I’m deeply grateful that a professor’s schedule is flexible enough that I can respond to a sick kid pretty easily.

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.”

Spouse made the mistake of asking some innocent questions about Animorphs last night, and now kiddo is asking me whether worksheets or quizzes would be more pedagogically effective for the Animorphs Academy classes she’s planning for the weekend.

Today is the first day of that sacred season of “I’m done with school but kiddo isn’t yet,” so naturally, I am spending it with a kiddo home sick from school. 😅

For someone who is actively apathetic about professional and collegiate sports, I can get dangerously close to being that dad at kiddo’s soccer games.

Currently doing dishes while answering kiddo’s questions about Animorphs worldbuilding. Might be at my dad peak right now.

Finally got the rest of kiddo’s soccer schedule! Relieved that there’s no conflict with Eurovision 2024, because that would be a real dilemma for our family.

Kiddo’s been visiting grandparents since Sunday, and her books are still strewn about the living room, so time to admit I’m part of the problem here.