Hangry Dad

"Dad, you only read religion or life books," says Dylan. " Well, I read other stuff too!" I respond. But not really. He's right. I like inspirational, self-help, and religious books. I've read enough of those to know that my job as a parent is to raise our kids so they can be independent. We are supposed to get them ready for the world and then let them go. I' m under the impression this belief will protect me from devastation when they move out. "Aimee and I did what we were supposed to do," I'll tell myself. However, in the back of my mind, I know I'll be a mess. But as of now, as each stage passes, I haven't been too sad. I like how they are older.  They can tell me what hurts or what they need. Plus, I like being able to doze off on the couch for 5 minutes, knowing they won't end up dead. My method of "I'll be okay because they are supposed to grow up" was all well and good , until I came acro

The kids saw a commercial for thick toilet paper. Check that: They don't watch TV, so this had to be an ad on YouTube — I'm not even sure if the word "commercial" is in their vocabulary. I scoffed at the idea of  thick toilet paper. There is no way that weak stuff will enter my house under my watch! No way. Three days later: "When you're at Costco, can you pick up a batch of the soft toilet paper? The kids want to try it. It's on sale," says my wife. You've got to be kidding me. Not only are we getting it, but I have to buy it — and in bulk! What if someone recognizes me? I will be  judged  as the weatherman who can't handle the rough and tough stuff. Shame will consume me. I try to stay positive. This will be a good thing in the end  (no pun intended). The kids will try it out and see that it just falls apart. It doesn't get the job done like the thin and strong toilet paper. The trial isn't going as I expected. The