My daughter is a ketchup addict.

It started out, as one might expect, with French fries.

We thought nothing of it at the time – no big deal, it’s just a little ketchup for dipping. Little did we know that we were complicit in providing her with this powerful “gateway” food.

Cafeteria Ketchup
Soon it was a bit more ketchup for her fries, then a bit more. And before long, she was dipping a whole lot more than just French fries. First it was chicken fingers, then hot dogs and hamburgers, then it was vegetables and . . . sorry, this is hard for me . . . then it was pizza.

“Please Mom, just a little more? Just one more shot? Please Daddy? I just need one more dip. I love you!”

Then things just escalated. She wasn’t even eating the French fries anymore – they had become little more than a carrier – just a way for her to scoop out a big red blob of the day’s fix.

She’s been “riding the red dragon” for almost three years now, and if we don’t get her help soon, I can’t even imagine how many gallons of ketchup her and those “friends” of hers are going to go through at her sixth birthday party.

We considered making her go cold turkey, but she’d just find a way to dip that too.

We even thought about taking her to one of these transitional treatment centres – you know, the ones that get them off the ketchup but get them started on tomato juice – but I’m just not sure that’s better!

 We’ll keep you updated on our progress as we tackle this challenge. Until then . . . you would be wise to hide your tomatoes.

Funny Parenting Tweets, Volume Two

Yep, it’s time for more funny parenting tweets!

This week’s featured twitter superstar is the quirky and funny Paul Gude – follow him @sgnp

Couldn’t get my daughter to drink smoothies, so I make one a little thicker, put it in bowl, and called it “breakfast ice cream.” It worked.

- “This is my daughter, Betty.” “Is Betty short for anything?” “It depends on perspective. I mean…short for a kid, but tall for a rabbit.”

Parents? Feel like the thrill is gone from your life? Try pushing your kid on the swing with your eyes closed. Also, probably don’t do this.

My kid just asked me, “Who invented trees?” and “Do flowers have friends?” “Tesla” and “Nope, only enemies,” respectively.

I’ve introduced the idea of kryptonite to my daughter so I can take tiny naps when we play Justice League.

After the cookie dough was made, my daughter said, “We shouldn’t even bake this.” I nearly wept. #prodigy

Wife: Dammit! 5-Year-Old: Do you mean, “Rats?” My Wife: Sure. This game is stupid. 5-Year-Old: You mean, “Hard?” Wife: Stop laughing, Paul.

Playing with puppets in my daughter’s room. She’s here, too, so that makes it better.

Me: Who’s a funny kid? Betty: Me? Me: Yup. Betty: You know who’s a funny grown-up? Me: Me? Betty: Actually, I was thinking of Mr. Noodle.

- A cynical observer would say I’m not so much “teaching my daughter to catch a Cheerio in her mouth” as “throwing Cheerios at her face.”

It’s like Memento, only I’m in the kitchen struggling not to forget I’m getting a rag to clean maple syrup off the living room floor.

Major bummer for our household today, “Pile of Nerds” on floor turned out to be a smashed Froot Loop. Both father and daughter disappointed.

- I think the most foolproof way to get my daughter to not eat ants is to spend 45 minutes preparing them for her.

Either my wife’s started leaving me great meals in the fridge or I keep stealing her lunch. Regardless, I’m pretty happy.

Betty: Why’s Jar Jar doing that? Me: He stepped in poop. Betty: Somebody pooped? Who was it? Me: George Lucas

“Honey, he won’t let you play on the firetruck because he’s a bully. When we get home I’ll help you make an angry blog post.” #answers4kids

Dining out with Kids, Full Series


1. Dining Out With No Kids

Location:

Fancy French Bistro downtown.

Fancy French Menu

Atomosphere:

Peaceful. Dark and candlelit, tastefully decorated, elegant. The service is responsive yet unobtrusive, the jazz piano wafting up from the tiny stage in the corner is delightful but non-invasive, and the aromas are delightful.

Food:

Six-course tasting menu. Each course is exceptional, with a particular highlight being the wasabi-panko-encrusted rack of lamb with chocolate mint relish.

Beverage:

Sommelier-recommended wine pairings with each course, building to a beautiful crescendo with a bold, complex 2006 Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon and concluding with cognac and espresso with fresh lemon.

Volume Level:

Pure tranquility.

Conversation Topics:

Picasso, sexual equality, Brazilian cinema, European vacation planning, purbred dogs, Sigur Ros.

Overall Experience:

Blissful.


2. Dining Out With One Kid

Location:

Generic casual dining chain restaurant in your suburb. It has kids’ meals on the menu and high chairs but also a decent wine list and a grown-up atmosphere.

Generic Casual Dining Menu

Atomosphere:

Jovial. A handful of tables with kids but also plenty of hip young couples to remind you that hey! you’re not that old and lame! you can still stay out late (on weekends) and you totally knew who The Arcade Fire were even before the Grammies!

Food:

Pizza, ribs, chicken fingers, 16 ramekins of ketchup.

Beverage:

Draft beer on special.

Volume Level:

Elevated but still enjoyable.

Conversation Topics:

Daycare, second children, Canadian vacation planning, SUVs, cats.

Overall Experience:

Thoroughly enjoyable despite cleaning up a spilled glass of water, changing a dirty diaper on the sink in the bathroom and having to apologize to the table next to you for the spoon that was thrown in the general direction of their penne primavera.


3. Dining Out With 2 Kids

Location:

Fast-food restaurant with plastic booths, a playland with balls and slides, the smell of trans fats in the air and a thin layer of despair.

Generic Fast Food Sign

Atomosphere:

Cola-fueled children run top-speed around the room, bouncing off of walls and one another like uranium atoms in a nuclear reactor while exhausted parents look on, drowning their sorrows in honey mustard sauce.

Food:

Enough McNuggets to spark a pretty serious interest in vegetarianism.

Beverage:

Medium Coke with a coupon, two straws.

Volume Level:

WHAT!?? SORRY?? I didn’t catch that. Was that a happy scream or a bleeding scream?

Conversation Topics:

Hamsters, Barney and Band-Aids, followed by a 90 minute logistical planning session on how to get to both jobs, daycare, kindergarten, soccer, gymnastics, t-ball, ballet and 2 playdates with just one car.

Overall Experience:

I don’t know. Give Daddy some space. I’ll let you know when I have a minute to think about it.

4. Dining Out With More Than Three Kids

Location:

The backyard. You set up a folding table with a tablecloth to make it seem more interesting, like a picnic, but really your only interest is in keeping juice, food and various bodily functions on the grass, where they can be dealt with using a hose.

Atomosphere:

The serene beauty of nature, the gentle chirping of birds and the peaceful evening sky are all ripped to shreds by screaming, crying, fighting and shrieking, creating a scene not entirely different from that particularly gory scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom with the chanting and the fire and the insects and the blood . . . so much blood.

Indiana Jones Temple of Doom Kids

Food:

Squeeze cheese, Pringles, slightly-past-expiry feed-grade tuna.

Beverage:

Sippy cups full of juice for the kids, Jagrmeister.

Volume Level:

Ever worked in a steel crushing mill when something goes wrong and 80 ton iron plates start shearing off one another at 3,500 rpm, and then a pack of hundreds of rabid elephants storms through the factory, trumpeting madly, and they all have huge stereos strapped to their backs and they’re all blasting out-of-sync sound effects from the movie Armageddon? Yeah, sort of like that.

Conversation Topics:

Life choices, adoption, out-of-town colleges.

Overall Experience:

Not to be revealed until years later, in therapy, when kids have moved away and post-traumatic stress disorder is finally diagnosed.

Funny Parenting Tweets, Volume One

Here are a handful of our favourite parenting-related tweets from @dadneedsadrink – follow him on Twitter, you won’t regret it.

DadNeedsADrink

Dear Science, Please choose 10 to 15 dinosaurs and pretend that the rest don’t exist. Simpler names would be nice too. Thanks, – Parents

DadNeedsADrink

Today is “Show and Tell” day at my son’s preschool, which is a coincidence because it’s “Kill Daddy’s Soul” day at my office. Again.

DadNeedsADrink

Hey, Dora. How about we ease up on the Spanish lessons and teach my son how to wipe his own ass?

DadNeedsADrink

Asking kids not to throw sand is a lot like asking kids to throw sand.

DadNeedsADrink

The secret to making Mickey pancakes is to start the ears 1″ away & let the arcs meet. The secret to NOT making Mickey pancakes is condoms.

Poop in the tub

That’s right, poop in the tub. It happens. More often than you might have hoped, by the way.

See, this is one of those things that just doesn’t appear in the “So, You’ve Decided to Stop Taking Your Birth Control Pills” brochure.

If you don’t have kids, right now you’re thinking:

“Oh.  My.  God.  That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard.  I would have to call someone to come into my house and deal with that or get a hazmat suit. No, I would have to have the tub replaced. No, actually, I’m pretty sure I’d just have to move – find a new place to live – because there’s no effing way I’d ever be having a bath in that tub again.”

But then there are those of you who have kids, who are more likely thinking:

“Meh.  At least it wasn’t on the couch.”


How much do kids really cost?

How much do kids cost?

 

We all know that raising children is expensive and all sorts of numbers get thrown around for the average cost of raising a child to age 18, but how do we really put that number into perspective?


Whereas X=the life you always dreamed of living . . .

 

If You Have One Child

  

Your new life equals X minus Ferraris, Porsches, Audis and Mercedes.

Subtract the fancy European vacations and instead go on vacation to the “European-Style” spa in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan where they have some very nice coffee table books about Paris and France.

Multiply by about 75 pageant and recital costumes you will pay someone else to sew for you after trying to do the first one yourself and accidentally wind up sewing your thumb to your lower lip.

Tacky Dance Costume

 

If You Have Two Children

   

In addition to the above, also subtract Lexus, Infiniti and Acura.

Add a handful of shifts per month at a part-time job in addition to your full-time job.

Forget all about the magic of Moose Jaw and add “vacations” to your basement, to which you add kitty litter “sand” to make it feel beach-like.

Multiply by approximately 30 sports and activities fees including your very prudent investment in karate lessons for your 11-year-old daughter who shortly thereafter learned about pacifism from her stupid friend Brooke and quit after 3 lessons.

Karate Kick

 

If You Have Three Children

  

In addition to the above, also subtract all new vehicles.

Instead add the “family deal” your uncle gets you on a ’92 Corolla with a scratched-out VIN that is later found to have been part of an “unexpected and devastating engine fires” factory recall.

Subtract the lightweight, comfortable aluminium stroller you always wanted and instead go with the “stop crying, it can’t be hurting your back that much” umbrella stroller you found at a garage sale.

Add some back-to-back graveyard/day shifts, a couple of kids you babysit on the side and a handful of semi-illicit business deals.

Add a near-clinical obsession with coupon clipping and the occasional “I scraped the moldy bits off, I’m sure it’s fine” dinner.

Multiply by approximately 12 years of college tuition, including the sure-to-be-a-goldmine two years of Art History for your pacifist daughter.

Picasso The Dream Le Reve

 

If You Have Four or More Children

 

Seriously? Has birth control education not reached your area of the world yet?

Okay, in these cases, subtract vehicles altogether. Add a falsified bus pass that some dude downtown sold you for $6 and a rusty ten-speed bicycle with an old catcher’s mitt duct-taped on for a seat.

Subtract new appliances and instead add a stove your hillbilly cousin sold you for $20. Try to remember that when the left-front burner is at MEDIUM and the right-rear burner is at SIMMER, touching any part of the front of the stove gives the kids a pretty serious electric shock.

Add some ‘grey market’ toothpaste, a minor ponzi scheme that never really gets off the ground and a backyard play center you built yourself out of asbestos (allegedly), mold-salvage lumber and half-burnt tires (remember to hammer in all the rusty nails before you start playing, kids!).

Multiply by the cost of the approximately 42,398 lunches that you will have to pack each evening before rushing off to your night shift driving a liquor delivery truck through Junkieville.

Add the cost of one tear-stained Ferrari brochure you hide in the bottom drawer of your cardboard filing cabinet and take out late at night as you ponder where things went so terribly, terribly wrong . . .

Classic Ferrari Ad

A Staggering Work of Heartbreaking Genius

Which book would you like to read before bedtime tonight, honey?

This book.

Um . . . are you sure?  I don’t know if that’s the best book to read.

Ya, dis book.

But honey, wouldn’t you rather read . . .

NO!  Dis book!  Peese?  Peese?  Peese Dadden?

Sigh.  Okay honey, we’ll read this book. 

I’m sure we’ll have a blast reading this blank Dora The Explorer notepad.

I can’t wait to find out how it ends.