My wife and I are having a fight and we need YOUR help

See, it's like this:

We're not actually having a fight -- my wife prefers the term "parenting stand-off." And we need our readers to help us decide who's right. Lindsay and I have different perspectives on whether our toddler should be required to give hugs, particularly when it comes to bedtime, or saying goodbye, and particularly particularly when it comes to our daughter running screaming from my wife.

On our daughter not having a stripper name

The very first piece I posted on this blog had to do with naming my daughter, whose full name is Addison Sage Call. After a lot of research and discussion, Lindsay and I felt pretty good about that name, even though one of the first reactions we got from anyone was from a good friend who exclaimed incredulously, "Sage? You're gonna give her a stripper's name?"

Dreams used to be a lot more fun

My wife woke me up the other night and told me that I was sleep-talking and muttering "No thank you!" very sternly. She says it happened at least three times, and that I owe her several hours of sleep, and to STOP TALKING. Apparently I'd been disciplining Addison in my sleep all night long.

Pirate scars

On internet creepers and Jason Good

So, there's a guy on the internet that I've been following for a month or two. Basically since I started blogging, although I can't remember exactly how I found him. His name is Jason Good, and he's hella funny. He's a dad and a comedian. A real comedian, I mean. I saw a picture somewhere with him and Joel McHale schmoozing.

He's got a great web site, and I like to check it out now and then to get a laugh and to get my own brain juices cooking. Is that a phrase? Anyway, it's not a drug reference . . . it's just what I imagine happening when things start coming together up there in my noggin.

In one hole, out the other

So, at first I thought that maybe I had too many comics focusing on poop. But then I was talking to my mother-in-law, and she was being all complimentary about my blog, and saying she thought I was funny.

I was like, "It's just because you like the poop jokes." And she surprised me, and said "I think some of those are really funny." So, you can blame this comic on my mother-in-law, who loves poop jokes.

But for the real-life scenario that inspired the cartoon, you'll have to blame that on me. Addison sometimes takes a long time on the potty, reading multiple books and singing songs and whatnot. And sometimes she takes a long time to finish her milk, because she's playing with her food or spinning in circles or whatever. So, being the very efficient multi-tasker that I am, the solution seemed pretty obvious.

Although once my wife saw it, the experiment ended. She doesn't respect my brilliance. Or science.

This is just a tribute . . . to dads

Also, if you haven't read my more emotional Father's Day post, you can read that here. It was featured on DadCentric's 30 Days of Dads last week. Happy Father's Day!

On learning facial features

It's a truly wonderful, heart and mind expanding thing to watch a newborn begin to recognize and explore its surroundings.

How many page views is a lot? And why do I even care?

So, I got a lot of traffic over the weekend after I had the guest post go up on DadCentric as part of their "30 Days of 30 Dads" series. I got some nice feedback there, and I've been enjoying what others have written in the same series.

But what counts as a lot of traffic? I ended up with a little over 300 hits by the end of Friday, and here's what last week looked like in a graph supplied by Blogger:

On holding hands (a meditation on being a father)

Around the time that my daughter Addison turned 18 months old, she transitioned from finger-holding to hand-holding. It was a big moment. Now don't get me wrong, it was cute the way her warm little fingers would curl around my single big one, like a bunch of tiny tentacles. And since she's rarely inclined to hold my hand or my finger, I'd take either one in a heartbeat. But if I have a choice, hand-holding is the tops. Let me explain.

On keeping it real

Not me, my daughter. I haven't got a lot to add to the "keeping it real" discussion, so I'll just let my sleeping daughter express the sentiment. Apparently, she doesn't lose her cool even in the midst of dreaming about mammaries and blinking lights. 

So, here's me and Addison encouraging you to check back tomorrow for my Father's Day post that's going up on Dadcentric. Can you tell I've never guest-posted anywhere before? That my excitement is totally out of proportion to the circumstances?

Eat your peas or get out

So, I love my daughter, but if there's one thing I've learned about parenting, it's that kids have to learn about consequences.

On poop

So, I'm going to make a new post every day starting today in order to celebrate the guest post that I was asked to contribute at Dadcentric this Friday. Here's today's:

My wife is always telling me to use the proper terms for things. For instance, she hates it when I say something like, "Fiddlesticks! Addison just kicked me in the nuts!" She'll glare at me and whisper, "That sounds so gross, don't call them that. They're testicles." Okay. Though now I kind of want to call them "fiddlesticks." So, which sounds worse? Poop, or defecation? The "proper" term sounds a little like "desecration," to me (which I suppose it could be, in some circumstances). Or like something that would require you to go to the hospital. There's also "defenestration," which is very different, but still not recommended, especially in Prague. And they all sort of point to "castration," which makes me a little uncomfortable as well. Honestly, I'm inclined to stick with "poop."