Listen, Cat: I’m Not the Out-Of-Control Infant You Once Knew
Look, I know I’ve made mistakes in the past. The kicking. The jabbing. The grabbing. I was a real loose cannon there for a while.
Look, I know I’ve made mistakes in the past. The kicking. The jabbing. The grabbing. I was a real loose cannon there for a while.
Q: What’s keeping gators from the kids? A: Nothing! Your kids can get up close and personal with our alligators.
Guests are forbidden from bringing presents. Jazz is a gift in itself.
I know, it’s such a cliché: “This year, no more eating children! Not even the wicked ones!” But it makes sense.
Rodney is a baby and I am an adult man. We look nothing alike. For starters, look at how much smaller Rodney is than me.
Your father and I are trying to plan Hanukkah. Think you’ll be able to join us in Nazareth for the last night? You also have a birthday coming up.
Childhood Dream: Live in a mansion. Adult Revision: Live next door to someone who doesn’t own a leaf blower.
Registered: A brand new crib with a breathable, hypoallergenic mattress / My Baby Wanted: Our dog’s bed, full of dog hair and slobbery toys
I just don’t think I can morally justify knowingly bringing children into a world where their dad would be me.
Someone or something begins to rattle the door back and forth as if trying to force it open. Suddenly, it stops.
The more advanced students write basic sentences in their workbooks: “The—dog—says—woof” and “The—villager—screams—aarrrrrgggghhh!”
5:00 AM: After taking a deep mindful breath, I stroll outside to my gorgeous backyard and teach my daily Pilates class to the woodland creatures.