Let me repeat this: SHE PUT HERSELF TO BED TONIGHT!

If this is what seven-years-old looks like I am all for it. No more screaming, or false tales of being “scared” or hungry or whatever else. I dunno what happened but a guy could get used to this. I asked her to brush her teeth - and she did! Then she futzed around in her room for a bit and then put herself to bed.

I attribute this to a few things.

1. Luck

2. The watch

3. The light

4. Age

If I had to completely guess, number 1 above would be the right answer but because all things aren’t black and white in this world there are some variables to consider.

1: The watch. She wanted a big girl watch so, so bad and despite the fact that she was dying to know what was in the box that was addressed to me that I would not open in front of her, she was good - and waited until her birthday today and the Birthday Santa came through this year.

She has learned that the watch has a flashlight, a reminder for her to drink water and she’s also set her own alarm to wake up to go to school tomorrow1. She loves her new watch.

2: Birthday Santa also brought her a night light in the shape of a cat that changes colors and even has a remote. We were using a book on top of a table lamp for a night light so this is an improvement for sure.

Age might have a thing to do with it too but I would put my money on the fact that she received 2 new toys that were bedtime related and she wanted to get to bed as soon as possible.

And she had a great day for her birthday. She didn’t have to go to school and instead we went sledding. We should have read the tea leaves when we arrived at the hill and there was nobody around, but we were dressed really warm and we did okay for the 20 minutes we were there - the first ride down was a success and then the second resulted in a face plant in the cold snow - and it was really cold - so we packed it in.

But she did get outside - which was the whole point.

We just had a really lazy day again due to the snow and cold. She watched her tablet, and played with her toys and lived in her imagination for the day as one seven-year-old does.

Dinner was homemade gnocchi by hand by Abuela and then of course - the cake. This too was homemade and was an Oreo ice cream cake.

So, so good.

It seems like yesterday that the nurse came in and told me to put on the scrubs labeled “father” and for a split second I thought they made a mistake because when I was told to get into these I wasn’t one - and for a split second I was confused and then I realized I was about to be a father right about now - 7 years ago.

Then it dawned on me and I welcomed her into our world.

Happy Birthday Little One,

Love, Dad.

The Dream

You’re sledding with the the child in perfect weather, with no wind and warm enough that the snow doesn’t melt, or if it does you don’t notice because there’s lots of snow.

Somebody is waiting for you at the bottom with hot chocolate and your sled appears magically at the top of the hill waiting for you. You take the lift up, of course.

Your child comes completely clothed with coats and hats and boots on and ready and magically arrives at the top of the hill with her shiny white smile glistening in the sun. No sweat and not tears.

You hear about this because some sledding fairy or maybe an au pair takes your child sledding because in your dreams you never go sledding - especially at your age - so there must have been a nanny or some other caretaker in this dream of yours.

The Reality

You have been voted to take the child sledding. You check the outdoor temperature. 15 degrees. This is not good.

“At least there’s no wind”, your mother-in-law chimes in. It’s easy for her to be so optimistic because she’s not the one going sledding.

You admit defeat and start to get ready and get dressed for the frigid temperatures, but here’s the thing - there’s a time limit between getting dressed for temps in the teens and still being inside wrangling boots and mitts on - and when that time limit is reached where Dad is dressed for 15 degrees but he is still inside wrestling boots or negotiating about whether she should wear 2 sweaters or three, Dad gets cranky because he’s still inside but now he’s hot and sweaty in 3 pairs of insulated pants and 3 hoodies and a winter coat.

The ladies manage to get her snow panted and gloved and hatted and out the door and we’re off.

Wait. I have to de-ice the car first because it’s been days since we went anywhere so this will take some time. The child wants to go sledding because it’s her first time and she too has been cooped inside for too long.

We get into the car and drive the five minutes to the park behind the public library where the big hill in town lives. This is the hill with the sign that states: NO SLEDDING and the city/town is not responsible to anything that could happen to you as you slide down a hill at uncontrolled speed for your first time ever.

We get there and there’s a few other families breaking all the rules and we realize that due to this and the lack of snowfall there’s very little snow on the hill itself. This actually turned into a good thing for our solo sledding because the grass lumps poking through put the brakes on.

As far as speed:experience ratio, this worked in our favor and we had the golilocks effect on this hill - not too fast but not too slow - juuuuust right.

As a preliminary, we went up about 1/3 of the way for a trial run. Success!!

Okay then, we go all the way to the top and I get her all setup on the very dangerous piece of plastic that she will be travelling on at speed and I did what every responible parent would do : I push her down.

She screams all the way down. I don’t know if it’s fear or fun but she makes it to the bottom unscathed and wants to go again. She hasn’t lost her mittens yet and though her hood flew off with all that speed, it’s fixable.

We go to the top and we go again to the same effect: No issues other than the screaming on the way down.

I tell her that the sledding rule is you drag your own sled up the hill. I’m no snowplow parent and she can pull her own sled.

On the seventh attempt she told me she wanted to deviate from what was working: holding onto the handles on the side of the sled. This time she wanted to hold the rope . I told her it was a bad idea, but she would not listen.

Okay then…

She made it to the bottom.

Almost.

On the last 3 feet of the run she leaned over a little too far and every kid that’s been sledding knows what happens next: you get a face full of snow.

“I’m so cold!!, I want to go home” she cries

“Huggie!”, she pleads.

I take her sled from her, resist the urge to tell her “I told you so” because this means she is done and if she is done so am I! and the sirens call of my warm couch beckons.

We walk to the car, me dragging her sled and her face bright pink from her bad choice and we get in the car where she pleads to get the car hotter and faster than physics can make it happen.

Home. She kicks off her boots, and snow pants and gloves and runs to her tablet because it’s been a while and watches her cartoons or whatever she watches.

I follow her around and pick up and hang up the coats and the gloves and the pants and find a towel to dry up the big puddle in the middle of the floor. When that’s done I make her a hot chocolate with whipped cream on top (don’t tell mommy) and she slurps and spills happily while I finish cleaning up the mess.

It’s then that I look at my watch. Total elapsed time was about 30 minutes from leaving to arriving. It took us longer to get dressed and undressed than we actually went sledding.

And that’s the reality of sledding on this first day of the year 2026.

3 more days until school starts

TH and Co.

She started to “dial” and play with it - which is fine, but then she asked me about the letters mean on the display. I had to explain that some companies might have phone numbers with letters so this way you knew what letters to dial. Or better yet even: way way way back in the day before Dad was born they had numbers that also had letters too so there’s that.

I told her that some companies would have phone numbers like 12-MONEY or 52-FLUSH and she loved that and asked why we don’t have a number like that I told her it’s because we’re not a business.1

But then she realized that she could spell her name with the dial and I swear if we hadn’t heard the bus rumbling down the road to stop at the door we could have stayed there with Dad’s telephone history as today’s class.

I told her that back in the day we had only one phone. Usually in a common part of the home. Sometimes a front hall, or the kitchen. Mostly the kitchen, if I remember correctly with that long cord that would get twisted in knots somehow no matter how hard you tried not to.

I then told her that later on we had two phones in the house: one downstairs and one upstairs - usually in the bedroom for those dreaded 2 am calls that were never good. ever.

When I was a teen the rich kids had their own line and I thought that was just ridiculous. Who would need their own phone line? That would take the fun out of it when you answered and you had no idea who was calling. Not a clue. It could be somebody trying to sell you something, your best friend or worst of all: your school. Those calls were the worst.

If the call was not for you, you would do what we all do: hold the receiver to your chest and then yell at the top of your lungs the name of whomever the call was for. God forbid you put the phone down and go find the person via a quieter method. Nope. It was always with the yelling.

Then came the question: If it wasn’t for you - did you put the receiver down on desk and leave or did you talk to the caller until the person arrived that they wanted to talk to? Sometimes you would end up talking to the caller more than the person they intended to call.

I miss the land line. There was something more physical and “real” about it. There actually was another person at the end of the line. If you were home you answered, and if you weren’t home, you were not home. Period. The phone just rang and rang and told your friends that you were not home. It was a very simple system that worked just fine.

If the phone rang late at night? Nobody called late night past about 10. At the very latest and if they did it better be an emergency.

And if your teacher called? “Sorry, wrong number”

Let your fingers do the walking,

TH and Co.

We were doing great on the way home. We were out the door before 9am and about 10:30 am stopped to charge the EV. We figured that it will take a good half an hour to charge for this part of the trip so we may as well go and have a brunch/early lunch.

BW ordered the french toast and then started to complain about feeling a bit ill. At first we thought she was just cold because the Denny’s had no heat due to a renovation, but putting a jacket didn’t make a bit of difference.

BW poked at her french toast, and the child ate very little at breakfast either. She usually loves diners so this was odd. We paid our bill, and left for the next leg of the trip.

“I think I have the flu”, BW told me.

“Nyeah, you can’t,” I replied.

It turns out,oh yes she can and we have the positive test to prove it. When we were about 2 hours away from home the child started to complain about a headache and then the next thing you know she’s zonked out in the back seat.

I’ve got 2 down at this point, and I’m the last man standing.

When we get home, BW goes into the house and goes to bed. The child has seemed to perk up and so I plug her in to her tablet at home and then drive across town to pick up the dog.

When I arrive, the dog looks healthy so I pack her into the car, thank the sitter and then go back to the house to unload the car of a week’s worth of food and gifts and somewhere in trunk were the spoils of our Costco run and that had to be put away as well.

Thankfully, my mother-in-law (bless her heart), sent us on our way with some empanadas so I warmed them up, and tossed some veggie sticks at the child for dinner and called it close enough. Later she had a few grapes that helped me get through the night.

The child perked up and except for being tired at bedtime, looks to be in good shape for school tomorrow and she wants to go because there’s a book sale tomorrow so it’s an extra special day.

As I write this, I have a load of laundry going and the cars emptied with stuff put away for the most part so all in all not a bad night for us.

It could have better, but we’ll take what we can get. We’re home safe and now we don’t have to do this again until next year.

Today’s PSA: Get your flu shot.

TH and Co.

This could mean a few things:

1. She ate something she shouldn’t. This is the most probable because I swear you turn around for a second and something is in or has gone through her that should not have.

2. She’s bored. This is also a possibility as it’s Buffalo in December and the back yard does not have the same appeal as the summertime sunbathing on the back deck does

3. She’s attention seeking. I’m calling this as the reason if number 1 doesn’t pass.(literally)

This dog is sweet, and we got the dog because I had a momentary lapse of reason and I asked BW if she wanted to get a dog. Also, for the child - I wanted her to not be afraid around dogs.

I’m not a dog lover. Of course, the dog has become “my dog” somehow and as she’s been hanging out here for almost four years now we’ve got her figured out more or less and how things work with her.

Here’s a few things I have learned.

1. The dog will try and eat anything that is made of wood, crayon or fluffy like stuffed animals. We never have to really edit or donate old stuffed animals because they just die an untimely death and gets chewed to bits. I have caught her trying to not-very-stealthily sneak a white stuffed bear past me as if I wasn’t looking.

2. This is one needy dog. She’s okay in the crate and as we’ve learned recently pretty adaptable to new surrounding and people even though her world is really small with just the 3 of us for the most part. But, if you try to sit down in the living room you will soon have a dog in your lap as in the photo above. This dog wants to be loved all the time

3. This is also one poorly trained dog. This is fully, completely my fault as we got the dog about 3 weeks before BW was in a pretty serious traffic accident so the dog training went out the door as we concentrated on BW’s recovery.

4. Age has made some problems go away. For a while there, the dog would escape and run away and I would be outside in the middle of a snowstorm running around the neighbors back yard trying to herd the dog back. Age helped, but also one time I had a broom in the front yard and realized the dog was scared shitless of it and since then the dog will not venture out of doors past the front stoop to greet the child off the school bus. Thank God for brooms.

5. The dog had a door issue for a bit. It would go out the sliding door but would not come inside for the life of us. We tried treats, coaching, and nothing worked except time as now she’s finally figured out doors. There’s video of us somewhere all trying to get the dog to come back in the house. It’s embarrassing, really.

6. She’s good with the child. The dog can be a little jumpy and there’s been a spill or two but as the child gets bigger and the dog gets older this hasn’t been a issue. The child loves the dog and will talk to her and pet her and the dog is as gentle as can be with her- there’s no fear with the dog which was the whole point of getting her. The child came home with a drawing of the family and the dog was present and the biggest character so that decides it- the dog stays.

So.If you like dogs and especially like not-so-smart dogs that have attention issues and want to just be in your lap all the time, then come over and visit. She will love you.

If you don’t like dogs, you can still come over but by the time you leave you may find out that you do like dogs after all.

Hey, it happened to me.

Constantly petting the dog,

TH and Co.

1. coffee. need coffee.

2. child comes downstairs and flops on couch

3. Coffee is in hand, and dog is fed.

4. I ask her what she wants for breakfast.

This is where it all goes sideways - with the breakfast choices. I don’t remember having breakfast choices when I was growing up. I probably did because I know what Captain Crunch is, so perhaps it’s just selective amnesia on my part.

I tell her she can’t have french toast because she can’t start every day with syrup and still have teeth. I offer her one of two choices today:

“Cereal or Oatmeal?”, I ask.

She harumphs and pushes past me and investigates both the pantry and the fridge to make sure I’m not holding out on her and there’s a freshly made cheese danish that I’m hiding.

I ask again: “Oatmeal or Cereal?”. Maybe if I reverse the order of the choices I will have better luck…

NO luck.

She tells me she is going to make her own breakfast.

“GREAT!”, I reply and continue to enjoy my still-hot cup of coffee.

She goes to the fridge and finds a handful of grapes that I had in a plastic bag for her snack at school and then pours them into a bowl. She then asks me to cut some apple slices and put them in the bowl. Then, I am to pour some orange juice over them…

Folks, this was breakfast:

I am undecided on whether this was a win for this morning or not. On one hand - fruit - so yay!, right? On the other hand - fruit - but sugar?. I’m conflicted.

While she was eating breakfast she found a Canadian quarter in her pencicl case which was on the table and then this led to a discussion about the Canadian mint and where and how quarters are used..etc.

Then I showed her the ultimate trick: As a decision maker by flipping a coin. I showed her how to flip the quarter in the air to make a decision and she loved, loved, loved learning how to do it.

We had to stop flipping and tossing because we were going to be late for the bus but she could have played with that lousy quarter all morning if i had let her.

This coin flipping lesson actually worked out well because tomorrow when I offer the breakfast options she can use a coin toss to decided and then she can’t change her mind - especially if she’s using a Canadian quarter.

I’m pretty sure there’s an international law against changing your breakfast choice post-flip once the coin lands.

And if not, I’m telling her there is one - regardless

Oatmeal: It’s the right thing to do.

TH and Co.

Easy, right? No rush, we get up when we want and have a nice family morning with bacon and eggs and a slow start on a gray Sunday.

Yeah…not so fast.

The problem with lazy mornings, is it’s hard to get the child un-lazied and ready to go swimming. I hopped in the shower and asked BW if she could coax a bathing suit and some clothes on our offspring so we could go and get there

I just stepped into the shower when the screaming started:

BW: Put your swimsuit on!

Child: “You’re ruining my life!”

I’m not sure about the particulars of how things went down, but down then went.

Meanwhile, I am in the shower and I have two thoughts.

1. I should go help BW

2. Hell, NO.

I chose option number two obviously and pretended I couldn't hear anything…lalallallalala - I can’t hear you……

When I came out of the shower things were down to a dull roar and BW was in a corner whimpering and the child was bright red from crying her heart out.

I managed to get the child to get some socks on and somehow we managed to remember to bring some underpants for her to change into and we get out the door with just enough time, and with all the supplies we need.

We get to the Swimming lessons and there’s not a soul there.

OMG. You have to be kidding me. All the tears and screaming and rushing - for nothing?

Turns out, some kid barfed in the pool in an earlier time slot so by the time we got there there was not a soul around anywhere because they closed the pool.

All that screaming and crying and coaxing and warming up the car and scraping the ice off, and buckling in - for naught.

We went home.

Turns out there was a message sent about the pool closure - but I missed it on my phone because I wasn’t glued to my phone because it was a lazy Sunday morning with the family.

There’s always next Sunday for the lessons to happen again.

Assuming no barfing, of course.

Keep Swimming,

TH and Co.

Greeting from the Hampton Inn!

We’re more than halfway and my little queen is asleep in her king-sized bed.

We are away from home for 4 days, but with the way the car is packed you would think it was for 40.

With the drive on the way down we should have maybe taken the Ark instead. We beat the snow, but not the rain and it was a little white knuckle in spots with all the darkness and shiny lights and reflections.

The dog is at a new sitter’s today. One we’ve never tried before because why use a tried and true place when you can just leave her with a new family with a small white dog and a cat.

These are 2 things the dog was not familiar with until today. When I left all the amimals were still getting used to each other, but the sitter texted me a photo of the dog zonked out on her couch, so I think the dog is getting used to the idea.

It was a busy day of cleaning and packing and planning and figuring out how to disasseble the dog crate so it would fit into the car but somehow we made it:

1. We’re at the sleep hotel.

2. The dog sitter hasn’t called with a problem

3. Tonight was the easiest bedtime ever. She could not wait to get into the king sized bed.

Maybe we should go on vacation more…no dog, easy bedtime and somebody else makes the bed in the morning. A guy could get used to this.

Sleeping like a King,

TH and Co.

A picture is 1000 words so I’ll just get this posted:

That’s Lauren on the left and me, Jeff on the right and our little amazon package is pulling up the rear.

I have nobody to blame but myself. Back in the summer when the wedding was all over the news I quipped to BW that we should dress up as the newlyweds on their big boat.

“We don’t have a boat”, BW said.

We can fix this, I told her and then rightly forgot about it until about mid September when BW reminded me.

“Oh, this is really going to happen?”, I asked.

BW answered by ordering 2 t-shirts with fake abs and one black wig and some red lipstick.

Add a few strategically placed socks and we were on.

But we need a boat! The happy couple got married on a boat and we just can’t walk down the street holding hands as that would be so boring.

Last weekend in preparation for tonight - we made the boat:

We named her the U.S.S Silicone, because not all the things you see are real in life.

The boat came from a fridge box that BW asked for on facebook and so she jammed it into the car and we turned it inside out and went at it with some box cutters, magic markers and a bit of green tinsel and a whole lot of humor and we had ourselves a yacht any ogliarch with money would be envious of.

We then had to figure out logistics like how we are going to move in the thing but BW had the bright idea to jam 2 broomsticks through it to use as handles and then we could walk along together.

And…it worked.

At one point, the child wanted to dress up as a Disney character but once she realized we were going to be the Amazon couple then we suggested she be an Amazon Box and the costume worked out really well as all we had to do was to cut a hole in the bottom of the box for her to fit through and then rig up some shoulder straps and we were golden.

Once we were all dressed up and out in the world roaming the ocean that is our neigborhood we found that either people got the joke or had no idea what we were dressed up as. I thought more would get it, but whatever.

We did get a lot of comments about commitment to the cause, and I think we won Halloween this year.

Anybody can order something on Amazon and have it be her costume. We’re the only parents that went all in this year, and then gave the child a cardboard box and convinced her that it was going to be her costume. I’m the cheapest Dad ever.

Would we do it again? Yes, with some modifications. A mile lap around the neighborhood walking around with very small steps and carrying your cardboard boat is tiring. Also, our flag on the back didn’t last as long as we had hoped but otherwise..sure.

I’m now afraid that this will have become an annual thing where we have to get dressed up next year again, and I don’t think we can beat this. We could go as another couple perhaps - Sonny and Cher? Hall and Oates? - We have some time to think about it.

I will tell you that our tiny little package had a blast and her only complaint was that she was cold but she didn’t want to wear another sweater so Halloween 2025 ended up being a bit of a life lesson to bring a sweater next time.

Other than the cold - she just loved it. This year may have been peak Halloween for her. Some kids would run from house to house but she was happy for the experience and took her time picking the candy and sometimes had questions about the decorations on the porch from the owners.

Happy Halloween and Trick or Treat!

TH and Co.

This is what first grade looks like:

My first thought was how grown up she looked. It seemed not too long ago that she came home to us and now she’s got a big goofy grin captured for all time in her first grade photo

My second thought was: I’m going to put this photo on the internet. I might as well start embarrassing her now before the tween years. I mean, why wait?

I guess that’s why I do this writing thing - not for the fame and fortune but to go back and read what seemed like just another day but then you remember it was a pretty good day for some random Monday.

Today, she decided that after dinner we needed to have a Halloween Party. Considering Halloween is a week or so away I am not sure why tonight, but hey - we went with it.

First the invites: It reads:

YOUR INVITID
HALLAWEEN PARTY
8:31

We did have to change the time from 8:31 (she has trouble with 3’s and always get them backwards) to an earlier time because Mom and Dad had dreams of an early night but of course this didn’t happen.

We set and alarm for 7pm and then we partied:

We just followed the signs.

First, there was dancing. She found a little projector that projects pumpkins and witches on the ceiling when you turn out the lights, so just like the Bruce Springsteen Song we were Dancing in the Dark.

When the dancing was over we had to go to dressup station and put the following on:

1. A purse

2. Sunglasses

3. Something else — I forget.

Done, right? OH NO.

Our party continued with story time where we were read to and then for the finale of the party she took the signs she made and passed them around so we could all look at them closely and talk about them - just like they do in first grade!

Here’s to first grade and all the learning of all the things that need to be learned.

Keep Partying,

TH and Co.

I’ve not really kept abreast of the news of the day, but there’s been something to do with Disney and folks are boycotting them. I think Jimmy Kimmel is involved but I’m not sure so you’ll have to do your own research on this.

But this isn’t about politics or other dramas.

This is about six-year-old girls and their love of all things Disney and the fact that they don’t care about politics at all.

What they do care about is Disney Movies and today while I was driving people around in my little blue car I had the pleasure of having a young couple from Russia in the car with their six-year-old girl.

This little one was smart and full of questions.

And she wasted no time asking me them.

Up first was my name, so I told her.

Then I told her that I have a little girl about her age. This piqued her interest and she wanted to know where she was (at school) and what her name was.

I asked her about her name and she told me and then she proceeded to tell me all the things she was going to do and the fun she was going to have in Niagara Falls.

I replied every time with “neat” to all the things she was going to do.

She asked “What is this neat? I don’t understand” and I told her it means
”fun” or “great” or “awesome”

Then she responds “Oh, you mean like Hakuna Matata?”. I replied that's perfect and then she proceeded to rhyme off all the other Disney movies she likes and has seen.

Also - princesses are her favorite.

“Same Here”, I replied.

It doesn’t matter where you come from around the corner or around the world when you’re six you don’t care if some CEO did something that made twitter explode in controversy and boycotts and other drama that nobody will remember next week.

All they want to do is watch Frozen on repeat - and that’s an idea I can get behind.

Until Next Time,

TH and Co.

The ladies are away for a bit, so while they’re off having adventures, I’m reaching into the archives. These are some of my favourite posts from the past few years. Enjoy.

She’s in school.

Actually, I kid. We had a great time this summer and it was chock full of adventures like summer camp and slushies and trips to Abuela’s house. But after 5 days of no-activities lined up it’s good to get into some kind of routine for all of us.

She was….apprehensive would be the word. Not scared, not nervous - but a little on edge. She woke a good time and had breakfast and got dressed and we were really, really early for the first day. We were out in the driveway waiting for a good half hour before the bus came. I think the school system did not have a good day regarding logistics on the first day as the bus as 20 minutes late on drop off too.

But, she survived. She came home with an “about me” paper where she had to fill in her name, how many people lived with her, pets…etc. There’s LOTS of new faces and names and routines to remember so it’s hard to onboard to the first grade.

Her friend lives around the corner, and the bus dropped him off first, but before the bus could get around the block to drop off my child, he was in the driveway with me waiting for her to play. He JUST saw her.

She hopped off the bus and they were both gone before I could ask any questions about their day.

When we did, we didn’t get a lot of updates out of her - I think it’s too overwhelming for her so far. She’s usually really good with names and stories so I’m sure that will come later down the road.

The big news so far? The school bus stops on our side of the street.

The ladies are away for a bit, so while they’re off having adventures, I’m reaching into the archives. These are some of my favourite posts from the past few years. Enjoy.

In the flurry of the hustle and bustle of starting first grade we made a note for the school picture day so we wouldn’t forget.

Then we forgot.

As I was tucking her in last night she casually mentions to me that it’s picture day tomorrow.

“What?!!!” I ask.

I go downstairs and check the calendar.

Shit. She’s right.

Then comes the list in my head:

• When did she last have a bath? Yesterday - that will have to do

• What will she wear?

• Does she even know what a hairbrush looks like?

I do a lot around here - but the clothing and food is mommy’s domain and she’s not here.

OMGWHATDOIDO?

Breathe. Just Breath. I can do this.

I asked the child what she wanted to wear and thankfully she’s old enough and has a lot more fashion sense than her old man and she picked a pretty little number that’s a jumpsuit? I think. It’s a shirt and shorts all tied into one unit - where the hell is BW and why can’t she be here to solve this problem?!!

Then there was the hairbrush:

The last time the child brushed her hair was back in 2022 I think and of course today is the day that the child needs to brush her hair for the first time in forever so she will look great for picture day.

Any hairbrush will do, right? OH NO. The child needs her hairbrush and no other brush will do because before she went to bed she had to practice. OMG, just make this day stop, please.

After a relatively short search we found the magic pink hairbrush in mommy’s basket of hairbrushes and nail files and scrunchies and god knows what else is in that thing but worrying about the contents of that basket isn’t important

We had to practice hair brushing.

For those that are new: I have NO HAIR and hers is short so between the two of us we had to figure out how to even use the hairbrush, but after a while we got the hang of it and she was busy brusing away all was good - right?

Well… almost.

She’s right handed and so only the right side of her head got brushed leaving the left side of her head the usual frazzled mess that it is.

We laid out the brush and outfit and knew what to do in the morning so she could tell mommy about our great plan.

I was not there to witness this, but this morning went off without a hitch. The chosen outfit was still the chosen outfit she wanted to wear and she managed to get both sides of her head brushed before she got out the door and on the bus.

If she’s on the bus looking relatively respectable to have her photo taken then I’m calling that a win for the day.

As I write this all photos have been taken without issue apparently so time will tell what they look like.

I know I can’t wait to see them.

Until Next Time,

TH and Co.

The ladies are away for a bit, so while they’re off having adventures, I’m reaching into the archives. These are some of my favourite posts from the past few years. Enjoy.

“Did you talk to the child?” I asked as I walked in the door.

“I tried, but she did not want to talk to me”, BW tells me.

That sounds about right.

She’s having too much fun with Abuela going to birthday parties and expeditions where they check out covered bridges and bake carrot cake cookies. No wonder she could care less about the folks back home.

This leaves BW and I with unfamiliar territory: time on our hands. Not much time ,because bedtime comes soon after I hit publish here - but more than we are used to.

We talked to each other today about stuff to do around the house and the general planning of the week ahead. Uninterrupted.

We had thought about going for a walk tonight but we decided against it because we can’t walk the dog because the dog never got trained to walk. It would be easier to walk a wild walrus, I think.

There’s an entire story about trying to train the dog, but that will be saved for another time.

It’s eerily quiet here. I have not told anybody to do anything in hours and now I have all this extra time in the evenings where I can read and start a project and not get interrupted a million times.

We did not have to listen to a song, watch a show, clean up any mess we did not make - or tell somebody to go to bed for the 13th time. I didn’t have to hear how disgusting the adult toothpaste is because we told her she had to use it because she’s a big girl and we won’t be having any more kid toothpaste in the house.

The silence is great, but boy is it quiet here. I forgot just how quiet.

Maybe tomorrow she’ll want to talk to us - because right now the silence is deafening.

Until Next Time,

TH and Co.

The ladies are away for a bit, so while they’re off having adventures, I’m reaching into the archives. These are some of my favourite posts from the past few years. Enjoy.

We’re lucky that for the most part setting an alarm clock is an option for us most days because we have a custom one of kind alarm clock: she’s six-years-old

Our My days start when hers start.

“Dad, Get Up” is how I wake up.

Dad does not want to get up. Considering the early hour and the fact that if she’s old enough to take a bath by herself now you would think that she can pour some cereal and milk into a bowl by herself and let her old man sleep in a bit.

But, nope. “Okay, Okay, I’m up.”

But it’s not that she can’t get her own breakfast - it’s that she would prefer to have me do it for her. And hey, I get that - when it doubt: delegate. But I have years of experience pouring cereal into bowls. She just doesn’t want to do it because it’s easier for her to claim it’s too hard and have me do it.

It’s better easier for the both of us

This morning was an example: I poured the cereal today. We were running late and we didn’t have much time for breakfast to happen today so I got her the breakfast so we could get to camp on time. Another reason she wants me to come downstairs with her is because she likes my company: her first words to me were “Daddy, sit down” and we’ve been sharing breakfast together since almost every morning.

Sometimes BW joins us but sometimes the siren song of the bed is too hard to resist so she feigns sleep and lets me do the morning shift.

This morning was a close call though as she was exceptionally all over the place in her brain and not focusing on the task at hand. She was super-distracted.

“Let’s go. We’re going to be late”, I tell her.

She can’t find her shoes. Then she finds them and wants me to put them on. I tell her no, she can do it herself. There’s a bit of protest so I make it a game: who can put on our shoes on first?

She won the shoe game - but I won the morning. We made it to camp just on time.

We’ll see what tomorrow will bring.

Until next time,

TH and co.

So. Here’s the scene:

Wife and child are away for the weekend. We’ve already celebrated father’s day so the day is mine. What to do?

Brunch? Nope. It’s boring eating alone

Golf? Too expensive and besides, it’s for wannabe rich guys.

Nap? Not feeling it.

Dig the backyard up in 80 degree heat at high noon?

Hell. Ya!

I’ve been meaning to do this for a long time. Over the years, there were some patio stones at the bottom of the stairs. I think. They were nowhere to be found. I knew they were in there - I just had to find them. It was like search for buried treasure without a map.

So I got out my trusty lawn edger and dug around until I found them. Turns out there was 9 of them buried there.

I also had about 8 extra flagstone pieces from somewhere. These were being leaned up against a fence to keep the dog in when she was a puppy. I figured I could put them to good use, and just start over feeding the dog so she doesn’t fit under the fence.

Lastly, in the shed I had a bag of sandbox sand leftover from God knows what.

And most importantly I had uninterrupted time. This is the gift that keeps on giving.

This allowed me to do things my way, at my pace and it could take as long as I would like.

There’s really not much more to this story other than I learned that I am not a professional landscaper and it shows - but, it’s better than having 9 buried patio stones in the lawn and now we have steps to the pool area which is something we didn’t have when I started this morning.

Like all DIY, if you look too closely you will see mistakes but this cost no money other than some sweat and an afternoon. I did not leave the house to get supplies and spent no money on this job.

It was either this or a nap.

This job is far from perfect but when the sod I replaced grows back in it should look a bit better. It’s for little toes to bounce from the house to the pool and back for the remainder of the summer and hopefully, this will keep more dirt outside than in but there’s no guarantee with that.

With that in mind, it’s good enough.

Now, about that nap..

Until Next Time,

TH and Co.

—-

If you haven’t noticed, I write about bedtime a lot here.

I am sure one day I will write about teenage angst- but for now - it’s bedtime.

In fact, my entire day evolves around bedtime.

From the moment she wakes up, it’s all a goal to land at the end of the rainbow: bedtime at a reasonable time.

I’m sure as she gets older this will be less of an issue but from about 5pm onwards until about 9pm, we have one task: get her fed and into bed. It’s a struggle.

I have no idea why it takes so long as we run a pretty tight ship with timing and we shoot for 7:30pm bedtime, but the problem is that she doesn’t stay in bed. She’s a night owl and gets her most creative ideas at night - but instead of getting into bed and staying there she gets up, draws, and colors and sings.

This assumes the getting to bed happens. We thought we had it easy tonight because she went to school in her PJ’s so we thought how easy could this be? Toss her in bed after dinner and done!

Ha.

It took us an hour of five more more minutes before we managed to get her upstairs in the general vicinity of her bedroom.

I’m the problem. I am the fun parent at bedtime. And she’s good with BW if I’m not here - but if I am - I am the chosen one.

I finally finished what I was doing on my computer and of course she’s hovering in the other room waiting to be put to bed properly. She will not go to bed no matter how much begging and pleading from BW.

She just needs a few minutes of silliness and then she’ll go to bed. She does not respond to instructions. She responds to suggestions and questions and tricks Dad has up his sleeve. I am the bedtime master.

Take tonight - she was five more minute-ing me to death and so I finally told her that I will just lay there with her and hold her and I’m not leaving until she is asleep.

She’s fighting it. She’s had a bit of a second wind after dinner, but that offer is even expiring. Those eyelids are getting pretty heavy.

She’s trying not to go to sleep. The blinking is getting faster and faster.

And just as she was down with the last blink she opened her eyes one last time and told me:

Go Away.

Gladly. I’ve been waiting for this moment for hours now.

Sleep Tight,

TH and Co.

This was the question I was asked tonight as I helped with the PJ’s and the nighttime routine. She mentioned that you could just ask your pants for more pockets, and then it dawned on me:

We could call them SmartyPants®️

Not only would you be able to add pockets at will, but you could increase the size!

Had one too many donuts? Ask your pants to adjust!

“Hey Pants” I could say “Increase!” and just like that I would lose weight as the pants got bigger – not me. This is what the USA needs. We have the big trucks with the big seats and the smart features so I think smart pants are the future folks.

Think about all the other things that would benefit from AI:

1. Airplanes. Stuffed like a sardine in Economy? Just ask your seat to evict your neighbor! It’s like business class for free. The airlines would have to book fewer people per flight which in turn would make for even more room.

2. Food! Go to some fancy restaurant and the portions are too small? Just talk to your plate to add more food! No more dealing with snooty waiters. Waiting for your takeout order to be handed it to you even though you can see it waiting behind the counter? Ask your food to come over and ta-da! – no more waiting.

3. Exercise. We’re already there anyway with electric bikes and scooters and I haven’t seen a old school pedal-powered bike in forever so this would be a great addition: no more pedaling! Just ask your pants to adjust accordingly due to the lack of pedaling.

Seriously though – to answer my little one’s question:

Pants with AI would be a bad idea. We want AI to cure cancer and make life a better place for you. Not write crappy blog posts or auto post to your twitter feed or to help you shop on Amazon or trap you in a support bot hell with a chat bot not helping you at all.

Hopefully you will not see Smarty Pants:®️ and instead you will see AI provide you with cures for cancer and help people be happier and healthier. That’s what I want you to see with AI in your future.

Leave the pants out of this.

Thank you for reading! When you Shop Amazon I get a small commission on what you buy and this costs you nothing. Want to know what else helps? Subscribing. Lastly you can always buy me a coffee. – TH and Co.

I have garnered enough energy to place my fingers on the keyboard tonight to inform you all I am sick. It’s just a common cold and nothing to worry about otherwise. Dayquil is helping.

Why I am writing about my ailment is that kids don’t care if you’re sick. You could be on death’s door and you still have to care for them. Whomever developed this parenting thing should of thought about this and have a backup plan.

I can push a button on my phone and get curtains delivered in less than 24 hours. But if I feel so crappy I just want to curl up in a ball because I am a parent I still have to um, parent.

And being a parent while sick might just be the worst thing ever. This got me to doing some thinking..

Folks, I present to you my new online internet idea:

Grandmazon!

Think about it. Push a button on an app and you get an insured and background checked grandparent to help out.

I figure why not? They say that the worst thing you can do when you retire is just stop and watch FOX news all day so this would keep our aging population relevant

We’ve had the neighbor across thew street come over when I had to take BW to the hospital once and because she IS a grandma she didn’t need instructions or emergency phone numbers.

She looked me straight in the eye and said to me “Don’t worry, I’ve got this”. And she did.

Because she’s seen all the things with her own children and her own grandchildren too she has the experience. We have an entire generation of aging boomers that need to turn off the TV and and into our homes to read an emergency session of Fox in Socks instead of watching Fox TV.

This is what the world needs more of: real leaders that can help.

And of course, bring you a little soup if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother.

Thank you for reading! When you Shop Amazon I get a small commission on what you buy and this costs you nothing. Want to know what else helps? Subscribing. Lastly you can always buy me a coffee. – TH and Co.

Pop Quiz time! What happens when you party for days straight and then go on a road trip for 8 hours and get home late?

You get tired! Really Really Tired!

Want to know what’s grumpier than a hungover 5-year-old after four days of toys and excitement and too much sugar?

Yeah, I’m not sure either. Pissed off Tigers? Monkeys, maybe? Border Guards?

Anyway, I’m just glad I was not home when it happened because all I heard was your daughter was a dumpster fire and would not go to school and get out of bed.

I’m still kind of in the doghouse due to the sweater incident yesterday so I just took the fall for this one. I know when it’s best to lay low around here.

Long story short: She missed the bus.

I’ve been telling the child for a long time that if she is late for school and misses the bus that it’s three “no fun days” (as they are called here) in a row. You will get on the bus.

And until today she had a perfect score, and I can’t really blame her as she was exhausted and she just didn’t want to get up in the morning.

As she was getting driven to school she kept on pleading with BW to “not tell Daddy” because she knew she missed the bus and she knew it would not be good for her when she got home.

But, I figured I probably had her worrying enough all day about coming home to me and that’s punishment enough. Sometimes the threat looming over her all day works just as well.

We thought she would be a disaster tonight but it was quite the opposite. We talked about how it was OK to be tired but we have things to do some days and we have to get up when we don’t want to.

Then we counted how many more sleeps until Santa comes and went to bed at a good time without fuss.

We downloaded the NORAD Santa Tracker on my phone.

We are ready Santa – Bring it.

Thank you for reading! When you Shop Amazon I get a small commission on what you buy and this costs you nothing. Want to know what else helps? Subscribing. Lastly you can always buy me a coffee. – TH and Co.