Last week, Pittsburgh Steelers linebacker James Harrison drew headlines when he posted on his Facebook page that he would have his kids return the “participation trophies” they received. Among his choice words, he said, “While I am very proud of my boys for everything they do and will encourage them till the day I die, these trophies will be given back until they EARN a real trophy.”
Category: Childhood
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Happy birthday, Allie-Bear
Happy 15th birthday to my Allie-Bear.
I haven’t publicly called my daughter Allie-Bear in a long time, mainly because she threatened never to speak to me again if I did, sometime around a fourth-grade field trip I was chaperoning.
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A gift to the sea
“When the Maiden of the Sea is granted alms, she shall never return them.”
— Ancient mariner saying I just made up
OK, so it’s not an ancient mariner saying. But it should have been, or, at least should be from this point on because I think it sounds a little better than saying, “I went crabbing with my kids and our chair was blown into the water and I didn’t get it back, despite spending 20 or so minutes walking on an oyster bed.”
My wife and I had an evening event to attend recently. Our daughter was going out with friends, leaving our son at home alone.
He’s 12, so he’s plenty capable of being at home alone till 8ish. We set down the ground rules: Stay at home. Don’t answer the door. Call the neighbors if you need them. And please don’t text us 435 times asking “When are you coming home?”
When I was a boy, I had the greatest dog a boy could have — B.D. His initials stood for “Big Dog,” which is probably why you shouldn’t let a 9 year old name a dog. B.D. was fiercely loyal and protective of me. I couldn’t even play pick-up football with my buddies in the neighborhood if B.D. was with us, as he saw any attempt to tackle me as a declaration of war, something my childhood friend Jason can attest to, probably with a still-evident scar on his head.
As a parent, I never thought I would get to the point where I would say these three simple words: I love bedtime.
It took a while to get here. A long while. My kids are 14 and 12, so some might say it took 14 years to get here. Of course, figure that both kids account for their own years, I think it’s only fair to count both of their years, and thus it has been 26 years of bedtime. But no longer. My wife and I are free.
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You mow, girl!
There are plenty of fantastic milestones in your children’s lives.
First day of kindergarten. Getting a driver’s license. Prom. Wedding. Rebounding from that corporate wide-layoff.
I have experienced plenty of wonderful milestones for both of my kids, and I am sure the upcoming achievements will be equally awesome.
The other day, my wife and I celebrated our 17th anniversary. I have written plenty of anniversary columns over the years, so this won’t be one of them. I think the fact that we hit 17 years can be summed up with this one sentence: My wife is very patient.
I recently read an article about a restaurant that was under fire for posting on Facebook that it would no longer allow “small screaming children,” adding that the establishment is “an adult themed restaurant that caters to those who enjoy food and are out to enjoy themselves.”
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Eel before me
Few things in life bring you joy like a headless eel.
Well, I guess I should clarify. If you are my son, few things in life bring you joy like a headless eel.
Readers of my column have gotten to know Parker and his many nature exploits. He loves nothing more than spending time outdoors, catching critters and observing nature. When I was his age, I was much like him. With one small difference.