Author: Neil Davis
Years ago, I bought a Christmas present for a coworker, a book I knew she would enjoy. Our friendship was loosely defined and I hadn’t considered how I might be overstepping the bounds of our relationship. “Oh, I didn’t think to get you anything,” she said, tearing uneasily into the wrapping paper. The social protocol for unreciprocated gift-giving is vague, at best. “Well, it’s the thought that counts,” I said, hoping some levity might ease the awkward moment. It didn’t. We’ve all heard this expression about how the thought involved matters more than the gift itself. We’ve repeated it silently…
A few Thanksgivings ago, shortly after dinner, my father disappeared. Our family had been resting in a satisfying, post-meal lethargy when someone noticed that his car was missing. It was nearly dusk, the weather turning brisk, and the Dallas Cowboys game only in the third quarter. Stranger still, he hadn’t finished his pie. Fearing the worst, I was ready to dial 911. “The Xbox is on sale,” my mother explained, making sure my nephews weren’t within earshot. “He went to Walmart.” This development was worse than anything I had imagined. Falling victim to the continual rollback of store opening hours,…
Buckle up. Start your engines. Your teen just passed the driver’s learner permit test and is ready to hit the open road.
It was an ordinary Tuesday afternoon when it happened. I was helping my daughter, Sadie, with her homework, mulling the different strategies for attacking an algebra problem that had her stumped. I had nearly revived my familiarity with variables and coefficients when Sadie held up her paper. “Got it,” she said casually. “X equals minus seven. I used the quadratic formula.” “Of course,” I replied, pretending her words didn’t sound alien. That was it. My daughter was officially smarter than me. She was only in eighth grade. I’ve had a few years to reflect on that moment, as Sadie will…
The mac n’ cheese will be done in six minutes. You have to leave the house in 12 if you are going to make it to both the soccer game and the recital. Your toddler just removed his diaper and your golden retriever is sniffing it enthusiastically. Soon enough, your spouse will be honking from the driveway and the evening’s chaos will commence. You have just enough time to microwave your daughter’s clarinet and put a new reed in her chicken nuggets—or something like that. It’s only Tuesday. If you’re hyperventilating right now, then you might want to read this.…
I check the forecast every morning. At some point over the years, I developed a compulsive desire to know the odds of needing a light jacket next Tuesday. It’s not that strange. Living in Central New York, we experience our fair share of unpredictable weather. But my climate curiosity began to remind me of my dad who, back in the 1980s, would stay glued to The Weather Channel as though convinced that a Sharknado was forever looming. Once I noticed this connection between us, every forecast began to sound the same: “There will be squalls of inevitability moving eastward into your…
It’s coming eventually. You’ve known it since the day she was born. That tiny girl swaddled in blankets in the bassinet will inevitably reach one milestone after another: training pants, training wheels, training bra. Each year there is a cake and a party. Birthdays are tallied in candles and perhaps some tears, each passing with the unspoken understanding that someday she will hit that most consequential of ages: 16. Her world (and yours) will never be the same again. Wait, what? Isn’t it just a number? Another spin around the sun? When did it become such a big deal? And…
Kids are gross. No, not your kids. Other people’s kids. I’m sure your children are perfectly clean and illness-free. They never bring home a stomach bug, befriend a turtle or have a trail of mucous running across their faces. Humans in general are downright offensive, especially at the microscopic level. We each harbor trillions of bacteria, some of us more than others. Don’t try to count them. It’s not really a competition, and the official estimates vary somewhat. But rest assured that your body contains more bacterial cells than human cells. Yes, really. As disturbing as that sounds, we have…
My daughter grew up. I try not to blame her, as this apparently just happens. Spoiler alert: If you feed kids enough, they become teenagers. Who knew? It was probably in one of those baby books, but I can’t remember. I was focused on the sections that outlined the first terrifying year of childrearing. Was there a chapter toward the back called “What to Expect 15 Years Down the Road When Your Child Becomes Self-Sufficient?” I was prepared for her to age, to become less interested in Legos, to no longer fit into shopping cart seats. I didn’t want these…
Parenting and pet ownership are basically the same, right? Though there are obvious differences, there’s no denying the bond between man and pet.