The big one with a flower

When I made the decision to transition the Rumpus Room from a game blog to an everything blog, I didn’t set many rules for what I would and wouldn’t write. I still have my column on Tuesdays, and that’s about as much structure as I cared to impose. Up front though, I did think that it might be wise to use stories of my own kids sparingly.

Now that I’m actually writing five entries a week, we’ll see how long until I throw that out the window. But I do think it’s easy for a dad with two little kids to fall into the groove of just writing about cute kid things all the time. I’m sure my parents and in-laws would love it, and I am incredibly proud of my boys. But to go to that well too often feels a little cheap, like I’m pandering to get people to look at my blog and go “awwww!”

Beyond that, I’m not sure how interesting it actually is for other people to read. (Obviously that’s never stopped me with board games, but bear with me here.) I know that I never got a kick out of seeing stuff about other people’s kids. Not that they aren’t beautiful children, but it’s very easy to underestimate how different it is to have your own. I’ve known plenty of little kids that I’ve enjoyed being around, but having your own kids is in a completely separate category. I know some people out there do not like children and don’t intend to have their own. I can understand this, because like marriage kids are a commitment you only do when you are absolutely sure you want it. I still don’t feel much beyond a passing admiration for the children of even my closest friends, but my own kids? Well, that’s another matter altogether.

Because they are really wonderful. I know about all the stuff I just said, but the biggest reason that it’s hard for me to not write about my kids all the time is because I love them. I had kind of a lousy day yesterday, and I sat down with The Little One outside, intending to brood and sulk a little. A neighbor girl came up and started making funny noises at him, and he cackled like a crazy person at EVERYTHING she did. It was hard to stay moody in that state, because baby laughs are the best sound ever. It sounds corny, but it really does make the sacrifice in free time, money, and energy worth everything it’s taken.

So perhaps you’ll indulge me in just a little “oversharenting.” I’m not a perfect dad, and they are not perfect kids. But man, I sure love them.

In that spirit I leave you with this joke from my son:


“Who’s there?”


“Banana who?”

“The banana has an eyeball!”

I admit, it’s kind of a thinker.


One thought on “Oversharenting

  1. You have me smiling!

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