- Say no to pizza
- Take more than 8 minutes to eat a meal
- Have a great pair of socks
- Set your alarm
- Go antiquing
- Like your hair
- Hold in a fart
- Hang glide
- Make a Salad
- Listen to a story
- Use a hot tub
- Iron something
- Emergency couple's therapy
- Be prepared to probably not do any of the following things for at least three years after having children. These are in no particular order:
My friend Jeremy has a great policy: If you’re going to call in sick to work, make it something your boss will be too scared or embarrassed to question. He has used “I have to get my lung drained” on multiple occasions. The response is usually, “Oh God, take as much time as you need.” BINGO. Here are some more suggestions. Try them out and let me know how they worked for you.
- Organ rejections. “My body is rejecting the pig aorta I got when I was 17. Did you know I had a heart defect that caused me to need a pig aorta?
I can’t do anything without my seven year-old questioning my motives. I know he’s just trying to figure out how the world works and what motivates people, but his curiosity is forcing me to analyze my own behavior, and it’s hard enough to admit to myself that I grabbed the 1% milk instead of the whole milk because I’m tired and it was closer, but now I’m stuck admitting to him that so many of the decisions I make are driven by convenience and sloth.
Sometimes he’ll ask questions that require sage fatherly advice, like “Do we believe in God?” and though I’m up to that task, the majority of his inquiries still pivot on banalities that I’m shamefully unprepared to answer.
I was the youngest student in the class and unfortunately the most naive and confident—there’s no more toxic a combination than youth and bravado. The other students were college juniors from prestigious universities, and I was fresh off graduating from Rutherford Hayes high school in Delaware Ohio. My Dad had accepted a director position at an abroad program in Florence Italy, and I was brought along for the ride. My unearned intellectual confidence begged to be euthanized, but I never anticipated it would be at the hands of my father’s political theory class.
From a young age, I remember my dad’s students dropping by the house just to hang out with “Doctor Good.” One of them had a Fu Man Chu mustache and a hammer & sickle tattoo on his upper arm.