Author: Neil Davis
One common mistake is assuming that once you sign the divorce paperwork, the difficult part is over. But successful co-parenting is an ongoing commitment.
My daughter was barely 4 when she decided she wanted to be a dancer. When I say she decided, I mean that we fastened a pink tutu around her waist and she offered little objection. Dancing through the living room didn’t interfere with her agenda of watching Dora the Explorer or hosting doll tea parties. Plus, a pink tutu apparently goes with everything. Flash-forward to the present and her enthusiasm has only broadened. In fact, her love of dance might be the only thing that remains unchanged. The tutu is gone, replaced annually by a dozen new costumes that improbably…
Picture this: Your child earns a new Scout badge, lands a triple Lutz or nails that tough violin solo—but you don’t photograph it. No, really. You don’t record a video you can pretend you will someday watch. You don’t capture an image that surely would garner a bevy of online likes and comments. In fact, your phone stays in your pocket or purse the entire time. Instead, you sit there and soak in the moment, enjoying your child’s accomplishment in full-color, high-definition reality. Many of you, having read that, broke out in a sweat and said, “Why would I do…
My daughter refuses to eat hot dogs. (Or vegetables. But first, the hot dogs.) I was aware she had some reservations about them, but a recent trip to Heid’s revealed her true colors. Sadie has assigned hot dogs to the same class of horrors where I might put The Exorcist, C-SPAN and any Kardashian. She remains haunted by an incident that soured her on them forever. Like most children, she suffered enough stomach viruses over the years that I myself can’t separate one bowl-hugging purge from another. (You wince. You flush. You move on.) Still, I’m her father so I…
It’s a Saturday but I woke at 7 a.m. I arrive downtown with seconds to spare, holding a wig and a change of clothes. Armed with my camera and a cup of coffee, I find a seat in the dark and wonder when I might next see the sun. Unfortunately, I am not a secret agent. I am the father of a 13-year-old dancer, and it is competition season. For the most part, this means that I belong to the community of proud parents who sacrifice countless evenings and dollars to encourage their child to excel at one activity or…