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Back of the Class

Author’s note: In order to preserve the dignity of this fine family magazine, underlined words in this column are to be pronounced backwards. Thank you. If you have a child in elementary school, you probably have opportunities to read to…

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When Dad’s in Charge

She’s out there, somewhere, winging her way toward us.And now the two most beautiful words in the English language are flashing on the big board here in Concourse 3: ON TIME. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t expect things to…

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Hot Wheels and Women: A Cautionary Tale

Ben, my oldest son, is thirteen. Sometimes he wanders into the room with a thousand-yard stare, which can only mean one thing. Girls. For the past year or so, he has been growing into an awareness that girls might merit…

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A Peck On the Head

Well, just look at the bunch of us now. A bit more weight, a bit more gray, but who cares? It’s a reunion, so it’s bear hugs all around as we shake our heads and try not to count the…

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Thank You, Thunderstick

It’s May in the DadZone, which means a shout-out to all the lovely ladies on Mother’s Day. If anyone deserves a special day, it’s moms. And yet, Mother’s Day can cause dads no small amount of angst. Let’s call it…

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Then There Was the Time

Before I had kids, the most exciting thing I could say about my own childhood was that it was over. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t a bad childhood, just boring. At least, that’s how it seemed while I was…

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Dad and Mom, On a Date Night

Come on. Admit it. You’ve said it. “It’s date night,” you say. “Just you and me, babe.” Could be dinner and maybe a movie. Better yet, a quick stop for hot tapas at that trendy joint on your way to the show…

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Down! Set! Huh?

The reason I watch the Super Bowl (and I’m talking about the actual football game, mind you, and not just the commercials) is because I am a caring and concerned father. Being a caring and concerned father is also the…

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Dadenfreude!

Bad dad days. We all have them. Sometimes it’s just a nagging feeling: I’m not doing as good a parenting job as I could. Sometimes it’s more specific: I feel guilty because I missed Johnny’s soccer game. Or: I snapped at…

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Let There Be Lights!

So go ahead. Hang a wreath on every door. Fill the mantel with all the fresh holly and pinecones you like. Line the bookcases with as many porcelain Santas as they can hold. But let’s get one thing straight right…

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