Disciplining a 13-month-old is like...

Encouraging an ant 
to do something good for humanity.

Sticking your head in the freezer, 
fully expecting to find a plate of hot nachos. 

Marching down the street in clown regalia, 
certain that if you march long enough 
eventually the parade will come
and it will be grateful for your participation.

Peeing into the wind.

Sweeping up the kitchen floor.
Except that it's a floor of quicksand 
that squeals and laughs at you
when you calmly but firmly say, 
"No, floor.  No.
Now stop swallowing me." 

Warm Cheek

Your cheek when you wake up
is perfect.

Warm,
Soft,
Plump,
it gives a little
when I lean my head in
to say, "Hello, sweetheart.
How was your nap?"


Cozy,
Precious,
Sleepy,
how irreplaceable
you are to me.

Rosy,
Toasty,
Happy,
a simple pleasure
entirely new.


Your cheek when you wake up
is perfect.


And it's a good thing
because sometimes
you are a really difficult child.

Jealous of my One-Year-Old’s Downward Dog

I am jealous of my one-year-old’s downward dog.
It is perfect.
He nonchalantly bends
into the pose
Often.
Easily.
Without strain.
Knees straight.
Head tucked.
Taunting me.

Or teaching me?

I have never been able to do that.
Bow to the one-year-old.
My Yogi.

Mother's Pride

Today I found a child at the toilet seat.

The ring you sit on.

He was gnawing on its top,
slurping the sides,
and beating his hands
to some native beat
on his holy doo-doo drum.

I sanitized him
in the other room.

And meanwhile the other one
crawled in ringside,
and began his own
sickening ceremony.
Gnaw...
Slurp...
Beat...

But today I am proud
not of their accomplishments.
No.
I am proud because,
After all of this,I did not kill either one of them.

Neither. one.

French Revolution

It’s the French Open men’s final

and it hints
at the banter
to come
between my
children.

If only John McEnroe could be here
to commentate.

I could sit back and watch.
Maybe sip a pink lemonade.

Serve it up, boys.

Chump Nap

Sometimes my kids take a chump nap.
As in, areyouevenkiddingme, that was not even a nap.
(Wrong answer buzzer sound)
(Another one)
Wrong.

What was it?
That was an event.
That was an experience.
That was something to talk about at nursery school.
(If you were two years older and actually went to nursery school.)
That was bonding with your twin brother in your room.
But that was not a nap,
my darling chumps.

Skin In The Game

My parents were both teachers. My wife was an educator. We like education in this house.

I remember hearing about the bond referendums that my school district would put up for a vote when I was a kid. I grew up in a town that was growing like a weed and building a new elementary school every other year to keep up with demand. Referendums came fast and furious, but my town was willing to support the blossoming student population and kept approving the referendums.

Then the population plateaued and the student population shrank and the district closed an elementary school and then the referendums suddenly were very unpopular among the population that no longer had students in the district.

Today I cast a vote in election that involved the school district in which my children will attend. Now, they won't be students for a few more years, but there's no harm in laying a good foundation, right?

This election, it was a little more...um...real? Now that I'm a parent, these votes matter a whole lot more to me than as a childless someone who just generally supported learnin' and such. This election will directly affect my kids. My perfect children who will be the first twins to be simultaneously elected Presidents of the United States. These kids.



When I was sitting at the poll, reading over the ballot that described for what the proposed budget increase would be used, I thought, "Yes, I do support the purchase of security cameras for the entrances to the elementary schools, and for newer, safer, school buses, and for the proper maintenance of athletic facilities that my kids would enjoy, and for the purchase of new technologies so that education can adapt with the changing times."

The guy next to me sighed a disgusted sigh and said, "Well, [insert my town here] is asking for damn Astro-Turf again."

Civic duty. It's what's for dinner.